Quis Separabit?
by theluckyshot
Summary: The planet Princip is a hotbed of battle. The Tau Empire encroaches to claim and expand. Whispers of Eldar raids. An ork waagh of immense proportions looking to fight all comers. Meanwhile the Imperium of man stands stalwart to keep their planet from xenos hands. In the midst four disparate souls will have to fight an even greater threat to save Princip, and much more. 300-709
1. The Divided

**A/N: So, this was a request made by one Mr. War. He came up with the high concept for this story and then gave me great latitude to run in whichever direction my muse took me. With some further ideas thrown in here and there for good measure. On that note, Mr. War I hope that this first chapter lives up to your expectations. And for any other readers as always kindly read, review, and enjoy.**

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 **"Failure and success seem to have been allotted to men by their stars. But they retain the power of wriggling, of fighting with their star or against it, and in the whole universe the only really interesting movement is this wriggle."- E.M. Forester**

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7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Resea Arana_Master Sergeant

* * *

Disembarking from the small transport ship Master Sergeant Resea Arana adjusted her pack. Wargear collected over many years, both from her homeworld Cadia and beyond jostled about within it. The weight was comforting, surveying the landing field around her she noted her fellow Cadians marching in their thousands as they too disembarked. They were off to the frontlines, she and her fellow Kasrkin would be at the spearhead of the offensive.

The first major offensive to be mounted on Princip in years according to her superiors. Embroiled in a three-way war the Princip PDF has been admirably holding the line against both the Tau Empire, and a massive ork waaagh. There's even been talk of Eldar pirates taking advantage of the strife. Plascrete structures stood tall—if a bit ravaged by war—around them, the city's name was unimportant to her, but she did know that it stretched on and on for miles. Not quite a hive city, but coming close.

Placing these thoughts away she began to walk, her squad following behind her. They chatted among each other amiably, their conversations lost on her, she had never been a talker. It helped out really, kept her aloof and mostly unconnected from those under her command. She led them to their destination, a chimera waited for them quite a distance off. It would be taking them ahead of the main body of the regiment, straight to the front.

As most of their missions in the past this one was simple in premise, get behind enemy lines and take out greenskin leadership. That was the bulk of the work they'd be performing, orks were quite bloodthirsty, and didn't break easily. But taking away their leadership did provide some respite, if there were no bigger orks to command the smaller ones power struggles would occur as new leadership was established.

The trick was to divide and conquer, if the united waaagh was broken up due to infighting over position then it would make the campaign that much easier. They also had orders to take out Tau where they could. It was going to be an interesting campaign, it had been a while since she last fought either of the xeno species.

"Master Sergeant Arana," the PDF Corporal chimera driver saluted her crisply. She returned the gesture before motioning for her squad to mount up. They obeyed immediately and clambered into the open back chimera, stowing their gear at their feet.

"Take us where we need to be Corporal. I hear there are some greenskins that need to be dead." Arana stated as she followed her subordinates.

"Yes ma'am."

Placing her gear at her feet as the rest of her squad—all four of them—had done Arana began her final inspections. More habit really than for necessity, everything she needed was there and accounted for. Growing up on Cadia left lasting impressions on young minds though. Checking her assault shotgun she scanned the various multi-situational shells at her disposal.

The solid ammunition was heavy, and non rechargeable, but Arana felt the tactical options offered by flechettes, inferno, amputator, and even a few modified bolt shells was preferable. Besides her hellpistol was more than enough should she ever lose her beloved shotgun, training and experience assured her of that.

If all else failed she could always rely on the catachan fang strapped to her thigh as back-up, winning that particular card game had been worth it. Though an angry Catachan claiming you cheated and coming after you with said knife soured the victory a bit. Luckily a lasbolt to his head and a great relationship with the commissar saved her that day…

Feeling the chimera jostle as the PDF Corporal finally got it into motion stopped her long enough to take another look around. As they entered a road proper the city passed by showing a tapestry of the usual scenes. Looting, riots, refugee camps, PDF troopers, and guardsmen heading off to war. It always surprised Arana, how fragile and easily a civilized population could break, and yet the whole of the Imperium kept on ticking.

Catching some of her squad's conversation she turned her attention to them. They were good guardsmen, there had been more of them at one point, but years of war tended to take a toll on manpower. There was Riren their designated marksman, he could hit a mark with his long-las from nigh on two miles off. Hanne was perhaps the best explosives expert she had ever seen, the woman had managed to take down an ork warboss clad in mega-armor with one krak-grenade, one!

Corporal Starkrage, he was about as consummate a soldier as anyone could ask for, always the last to retreat when ordered. Jar managed to somehow patch them all up when they should have died, even Arana had her guts put back into her by the stoic medicae.

Distant sounds of battle became close, the whistle of shells fired by artillery, the whip-crack of lasguns, the bellowing war cries of merciless and excited xenos. Frighteningly enough it was all familiar to her by now, even comforting. Judging by the increasing cacophony she'd estimate they were a mere half-hour away from their latest battle.

"Wake me when we're there Corporal Starkrage," Arana laid her head back, Starkrage's affirmative heard as she closed her eye's. It would be a good idea to get some rest while she could, as for the proximity to the warzone, it didn't matter, not anymore. She fell asleep to the lullaby of xenos war-cries and weapon fire in the distance, familiar as it ever was.

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7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Shas'La_T'olku Irah

Shas'La T'olku Irah, this was his first deployment, his first trial by fire. On the way to this blighted planet he heard quite a few heroic tales, or horror stories depending on one's point of view. His Shas 'Ui told him of the savage greenskins, brutish monstrosities fit only for extermination. To think that a sentient race would revel so much in chopping up living things disgusted him. And then he heard about the Imperium, a far cry from the gue'vesa he knew, draconian was the best word he could think to describe them. Nearly as brutal as orks, they were possibly an even more harrowing opponent because of their relative strategic experience.

It would be quite the first deployment, a three-way free-for-all of epic proportions. But, it was for the greater good, and Irah knew that would guide him, the Ethereals were never wrong. Why did the Empire want Princip? It did not matter, not to him, he had faith, and that was enough.

Shaking, the manta gunship transporting Irah and his cadre stirred him from his reflection. Heavy **booms** , and sharp _plinks_ could be heard as the air around them was filled with flak from Imperial and Ork air defenses. No direct hits, the sturdy manta wouldn't go down so easily though.

Strapped into his harness Irah was just waiting for the ramps to lower. They were hitting a weak point in the Imperial and Ork lines, from there they were going to capture mission critical sites within the main Imperial city on Princip. It was a classic employment of the Mont'Ka. As the manta shuddered Irah knew it was time, his gut told him so. From now he would have to rely on his training, his Shas'Ui would guide him, and he would pass his first trial of fire.

The ramps opened and instantly every fire warrior on the top deck with him freed themselves from their harnesses. Irah was a bit behind fumbling as he heard the sounds of battle outside, louder with the manta open to Princip's air. It wasn't long though before he was freed and charging down the ramp with his cadre into the dust choked air of the battlefield.

He took in the sight, their landing zone a large clear area of pummeled structures and rubble. To their front the Imperial lines, to their rear Ork. Monolithic Imperial buildings created a border around the clearing as the two sides had fought it out before Tau arrival.

Advancing across the warzone Irah could see hammerhead gunships zipping ahead of the main body of warriors to strafe enemy positions, crisis-suits were advancing at the sides to quickly circle around the enemy and flank them. Meanwhile he and the other cadres advanced on foot keeping back a ways to lend fire support for their kroot auxiliaries, as the avians charged gue'la lines to engage in melee.

A cacophony of explosions was heard as hammerheads blew out the top floors of buildings on the Imperial side. Effectively denying the gue'la any possible sniper support they may have had. It had the added benefit of dropping large amounts of debris down onto the Imperial line, crushing some, inconveniencing the rest. Kroot and crisis-suit pilots used the new difficult terrain to their advantage as they assaulted the enemy.

Irah sighted in on his first target with his pulse rifle, the pink gue'la face was contorted in anger as it gunned down an approaching kroot. Irah squeezed his rifles trigger, the hyper-velocity pulse of plasma connected not a micro-second later obliterating the gue'la's head from the neck up, helmet included. All around him he heard as his cadre in turn fired as well, each fire warrior taking out a hostile target.

To his rear he heard the pulse fire as more cadres engaged with the charging orks to their flank. The greenskins were so far that the accurate fire of tau gun-lines slaughtered them before they could make any headway. Fire-power combined with their sudden arrival was turning the tau assault into a tactical success. Imperial line faltering Irah heard the order for advance, they walked calmly in their fire-lines, employing their large nanocrystaline pauldrons to soak up any stray Imperial lasbolt and stubber-rounds. Irah felt the thump and heard the ping as a stubber-round hit his own pauldron ricocheting away harmlessly.

Ahead of them he picked out his targets careful not to hit his kroot allies, his own pulse-fire took out at least five more gue'la PDF. By this time the Imperial line was crumbling, elements of their PDF were fleeing the elaborate trench system, crisis-suit pilots and kroot bore down on them. Where the avians weren't battering the gue'la into submission in melee, crisis suit operators were blowing them into pieces with precise heavy weapon fire.

Any stragglers left and retreating got pulse-fire to their backs by the advancing tau gun-lines, or blown to bits by strafing hammerhead gunships. The Mont'Ka was swift, brutal, and decisive, Tau victory assured in a matter of moments. Meanwhile as the Imperials retreated the Tau hammerheads were content to shift focus onto the Ork lines, bombing the resilient greenskins into oblivion to cement Tau hold over the area.

Manta's were now ground-side, acting as forward operations for the Tau forces in the area. From here they would expand their influence and eventually take the city.

"Come Shas'La, we must establish ourselves further in the area of operation," Irah's Shas'Ui stated to him as he halted for a brief moment. His first trial by fire over Irah was taking in the moment, the scenery… the stench. Before him was a charnel house, gue'la bodies everywhere, mostly bits and pieces. A whole torso here and there, arms, legs, the shocked expressions written on dead men and woman's faces… if a face was even discernible.

Seeing the carnage up close was making the Shas'La's gorge rise, and the Kroot going about their macabre ritual of eating the bodies they deemed to possess good traits didn't help. One of the avians shot him their equivalent of a grin as he passed, a gue'la eye hanging from his beak. He ate it up quick.

"These one's have good eyes on 'em, see into a broader spectrum." He threw out conversationally. Irah merely nodded, the Kroot gave an amused chuckle before going back to his carrion.

"Pay them little mind Shas'La, foul as they may be, they have a part to play for the greater good." Irah's Shas'Ui stated drawing the young fire-warrior's attention away from the sight of Kroot feeding. "Our duty is to press on, reports are coming in from the pathfinder teams and drones. At this rate we'll be able to take this sector within the day."

"Yes Shas'Ui, for the greater good," Irah spoke, a slight hitch in his tone. Seeing up close the devastation the rifle in his hand caused, it was rattling, never mind the barbaric Kroot. Such carnage caused at a distance, he couldn't imagine being in the thick of it, fighting hand-to-hand, having to use the oath blade at his hip to kill another sentient being.

To think that the gue'la did such things daily on many more fields of battle than he could imagine, it was a sobering thought. That was the type of enemy he was going to be fighting.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Watgrad Wilddaggha_Ork Nob

His mind worked… differently from that of many of his kind. In his own thoughts he was one of a kind, properly orky… just in his own way. The massive nob had never been one for charging blindly, no that was for the gits who didn't have cunnin'.

After all if you hit 'em when they weren't lookin' then you got to live longer, and the longer ya lived the more right proppa scraps ya could get in. So, Watgrad Wilddaggha waited patiently as those blue-skinned gits along with their birdy pals advanced past his position. He had snuck skitter-scuttle across no-mans-land the day before, wanting to stab a few hummies in the back, maybe bat a few across the noggin' too.

He had been waiting patiently, for the night, when he could move his bulk around easier without being noticed. Watgrad had been more than surprised when the very appealing **booms** , and shoota-like weapon-fire had woken him up. From his position in a hummie pill-box he had hid in the night before—the two gits manning it had been asleep and not much of a scrap—he saw as the blue-skin assault had happened.

Blue-skins he had scrapped with before, the yellow clad 'blu's' weren't much fun when ya got proper close to 'em. Not much of a scrap there, but their birdy pals, now they were a 'proppa scrap' as his warlord had been fond of sayin'. Watgrad had been lookin' forward to using his choppa on a few unaware hummies, well more than just two. But, his disappointment was short lived when he realized that he'd be able to get proppa'ly close to some blu's, and their birdy pals.

Unfortunately, it would take more time. Watgrad was cunnin' after all, and he knew if he tried to scrap now… well he'd be un-proppa'ly shot full of holes before he managed to chop any gits. No, he'd just have to grind his teef and wait a bit longer…

"Check that pill-box, make sure no gue'la are hiding out." Watgrad heard the blu's voice clearly, it wasn't too far away. The nob grinned, seemed he'd be getting a scrap sooner than expected. Decked out in his black body paint Watgrad stayed still, there was no light in the pill-box, and he was nigh invisible against the inner wall.

Three blu's entered the fortification, their lights panning around quickly as they scanned for danger. Beams passed over his form, none detected him, stupid blu's he thought. Instead they stopped at the bodies of the two hummies he chopped the night before. The three blu's began to inspect Watgrad's work, oblivious to the danger they were in.

"Kroot, must have gotten in here," one of them said in a nervous tone.

"No, these wounds don't seem right, too large, and old," another noticed.

"Who cares, I'm gonna gag if we have to stay here any longer, let us get away from here. Leave clean-up to the birds." The third bit out, queasiness clear in his tone.

Watgrad had heard enough, the blu's were so close it was maddening. He moved his bulk with surprising stealthiness, the leader blu's head was cleaved clear from his shoulders in one motion. Watgrad threw aside the body like a rag-doll as he closed on the second git.

"Wha..." the blu was cut off as Watgrad's choppa split him clear in two from the top of his head to his groin. By this point the nob was laughing maniacally as he conducted his proppa orky work.

"By the Ethereals!" The last blu squealed from behind Watgrad. He heard the sound of the blu's shoota as it winged his side, but it was only a tiny scrape, not worth the nobs attention. After all, he had a git to smash, right and proppa!

Rounding in an instant Watgrad had one massive hand on the last blu's shoota, ripping the pathetic excuse of a weapon from his hands and tossing it. The next moment the nob brought the same hand around to backhand the blu, the small hoofed being went sailing across the interior of the pill-box. A loud **crash** was heard as crystaline armour met rockcrete wall, the blu's helmet falling off.

Watgrad was pleased when the blu started to stir from his place on the floor. Rising to his feet the blu drew its pathetic little choppa in a shaking hand, facing the huge nob it was hilarious. Watgrad couldn't help but bellow out in laughter at the sight. Though he was impressed by the little blu, usually they didn't even bother to get into a proppa scrap, liked their puny shootas too much he supposed.

"Oi, now tha's righ' an proppa' ya git. Ba' old Wilddaggha ain't goin' easy on ya!" The nob grinned as he cracked his thickly muscled neck. Advancing on the little blu Watgrad raised his choppa, ready to cleave the git in two. That was when he heard the fall of many hoofed feet. Turning Watgrad was met with the sight of five blu's lined up outside the pill-box entrance, their shootas trained on him.

They held their fire though, not wanting to hit the little blu scrapper just visible past the nobs bulk. Watgrad grinned as he faced the blu's down, then a curious feeling. One he hadn't felt in quite a while, the feeling one got when a choppa was stuck into 'em. Turning back he saw the little blu, with his little choppa buried into his side. Trying to pull the choppa from his side the blu was struggling. Watgrad laughed even more.

"Now tha's the spirit bluey!" He yelled out, the blu looked up at the nob in horror. Watgrad grinned down at the interesting little scrapper and wasting no time batted him away, back into the wall he'd hit previously. Using the distracting movement the nob turned, barreling into the group of five other blu's, crushing one of their heads in his great palm, and cleaving off two more heads with one swing of his choppa. The remaining two were thrown aside as he charged through by his sheer bulk.

Watgrad wasn't retreating, orks didn't do that… no he was running away to scrap another day. He had always been fast, even considering his size, and remarkably stealthy. He heard the puny sound of blu shootas behind him, felt a few grazes as their deadly payload missed him narrowly. Watgrad however was cunnin', and soon enough he was out of sight and far enough away from the blu's to breath—or laugh—contently, it had been short-lived, but it had been a good proppa scrap.

That little blu, had earned as close to respect as could be gotten from an ork. Watgrad would remember the little scrapper, the nob hoped he'd meet him again, to finish their fight. Stopping in a large crater far from the main blueskin forces Watgrad began to touch up his camouflage, adding the differently colored earth to better blend in for his trip back across no-mans-land to his warparty.

He was perplexed when he felt slight resistance as his hand bumped into something at his side. Or rather in his side. Watgrad stared down at the little blu's choppa, sticking out almost proudly from his ribs. The nob grinned crookedly, he'd have to keep it as a reminder, now he was sure he'd meet the little scrapper again. After all he'd have to return the little blu's choppa, it was the orky thing to do… before he pummeled the little git into paste.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Shas'La_T'olku Irah

Irah, he was shaken. To think he was nervous about the gue'la… that had been the first ork he had seen, and fought in his life. He hardly wanted to think he'd have to fight more of those brutish monstrosities, it was no wonder standard combat doctrine avoided close combat at all cost. More importantly, what was an ork doing on the Imperial side of the battlefield!

Irah was breathing hard, getting thrown into a wall twice will do that to you. Lucky my armour took the brunt of it, was the thought running through his mind. He was grateful that the rest of his cadre had shown up in time to save his skin.

His thoughts crept back to the giant he had just fought. Easily two and a half metres in height it had towered over him. To think they hadn't spotted something that big! Even with their helmet's built in sensors… the ork must have been doing something to cover its presence. Other than the haphazard camo pattern it had covered itself in. Irah was sure he'd never forget that crooked grin of tusks and teeth, or those crinkled piggy, red eyes.

"Shas'La are you alright?" His Shas'Ui's voice drew him from his introspection. His tone surprisingly calm despite five of his cadre having been killed. It spoke of the veteran fire-warrior's experience and resolve. He had been one of the lucky two at the pill-box entrance to have survived after all, and by a narrow margin Irah thought to add.

"Yes Shas'Ui, just a little shaken. First greenskin I've seen in the flesh, lost my oath-blade," Irah managed to get out in a shaky tone. He was still reeling from the blows he took.

"Good to hear you're okay, unfortunately there's no time to rest. That Ork was a freak of nature, the rest of the cadres have secured the area, we must be moving on despite our losses. Our fight is not over, for the greater good," his Shas'Ui stated solemnly. "Get your helmet and weapon Shas'La, we've got more work to do."

Irah nodded, walking over to where his pulse-rifle was still miraculously intact as well as his helmet. Placing the comforting weight of his helmet back on his head Irah felt better, he was just starting to realize how difficult his trials ahead were going to be. He moved out with the retreating members of his cadre.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Resea Arana_Master Sergeant

Putting another amputator shell into the ork Arana watched as the screaming xeno lost its other arm. In muted amusement she watched as the greenskin bellowed, looking perplexed at the two stumps it now sported. Riren placed a lasbolt into the xenos head a second later ending its misery. Arana had already switched targets, confident in her designated marksman to pick off anything still living that got past her and the rest of the squad.

She was already pumping out more amputator shells into other Orks. Taking limbs with each shot, let's see a lasgun do that to a greenskin was her thought. She concentrated on headshots where she could, but shots to the legs were nearly as effective. They allowed her squad to pick off the crippled xenos at their leisure.

Between her assault shotgun, Riren's precise longlas fire, Hanne's liberal use of frag-grenades from her launcher, and Jar's hellgun fire, combined with Corporal Starkrage's own they were clearing the current area quite effectively. Close to the very edge of the eighth district's front they were encroaching upon a very stubborn, very dug-in ork nob. As far as they could tell it was directing the majority of the fighting in the district.

Bellowing out its orders over the district's pilfered intercom system to spur on its boyz. They knew where the bastard was, the main broadcast station, the problem was getting past all the orks between them and it. It had been one skirmish in the streets to another so far. This latest one being the sixth. Now finished as Arana blew the head off the last Ork alive.

They were close though, thankfully enough. Just left around the building ahead of them onto the next city block, and they'd be at the broadcast station's door step. Though Arana really would rather not have to go through a frontal assault, against what was no doubt a few dozen personal guard surrounding their nob. Even Kasrkin couldn't deal with that, not with just five of them anyway.

She motioned for her squad to stack up at the building corner, she took the lead. Her squad behind her she carefully held a small mirror to get a peak. In the reflection she could see the broadcast building, it was gutted, seemed the greenskins had done some major remodeling. The casting tower was still intact… though it rose ponderously from the blown open ruins of the building itself.

In the middle of a gaggle of Ork boyz running around stood the nob, clad in greenskin karapace. It bellowed its orders into a comically massive microphone festooned with human skulls. Arana took note that they could cross the street to the opposite building without being seen. She motioned for Corporal Starkrage right behind her to go first, he did so without hesitation, running low across the street to the cover of the opposite building.

There he took up position and scanned the area, making sure no orks were around. Finishing his recon he motion for Arana to start sending over the rest of them. The Master Sergeant began to send her squad over one at a time, Hanne, Jar, and Riren. Finally she made the run, keeping low as she had been trained, confident she would not be seen.

Meeting up with her subordinates she began conversation with hand signs. Telling them to follow on her lead, they traversed the building's side finally coming across the fire-escape stairs. They got the ladder down without incident, with the random shooting orks were so fond of the clank and groan of the mechanism went unheard.

Then it was a fairly short way to the upper floors of the building. They would be a good vantage point for what she had in mind. Entering through a window they traversed the deserted habs and found one facing the proper direction. They secured the room not a moment later.

"Riren, if you'd do the honors." Arana spoke in her usual tone, she likened it to commanding, but friendly. The sniper nodded curtly, a slight smirk on his face as he began to move a table to the proper area. He made it face the window about three feet away. Getting up on it he sighted in on the nob with his longlas, taking a moment he shook his head.

"Hanne, could you please loan me your shoulder?" The marksman asked with a smirk.

"I swear if you try anything Riren," the explosive expert threatened doing as requested. Arana could care less about inter-guard relationships, so long as they didn't affect the mission. Riren was an unabashed flirt, and his antics ultimately led to nothing, so she was long past caring about the usual banter between the two of them.

"Never dream of it Hanne, but if you could please hold your breath..." Riren asked as he rested his longlas' stock on his comrades shoulder. Sighting in again Arana watched as the sniper breathed in slowly, exhaled, and then pulled the trigger. A _whip-crack_ was heard, followed by a sudden silence as outside the greenskin mob stopped its antics as its leader fell to the ground, brain fried, and dead.

"Kill confirmed, Ork mob is scattering. We should be good, seems they're clearing from the area." Riren stated professionally.

"Thank the Emperor, that Nob's voice was starting to grate on my nerves," Jar commented.

"How long before we're clear to move out?" Arana asked quickly.

"I'd say about ten minutes Ma'am. We should be able to avoid all confrontation by that timetable, the mob will be spread thin enough by then," Riren reported.

"We can take out any stragglers too, shouldn't be too many after seeing their boss drop dead like that." Hanne threw in as she got away from Riren.

"Good, take the opportunity to eat some rations," Arana said it like a suggestion, but they all knew it was an order. She liked her subordinates to have a full stomach, they could operate fine on minimal food, but she demanded them to keep as aware, fed, and fit as possible. Thus when the opportunity arose she made them all eat.

"Yes Ma'am," was the response she got from them all. The crinkle of ration wrappers was heard soon after. Having the room secured and Riren keeping an eye on the door she felt they were okay for the moment. She pulled out her own ration bar, unwrapped it, and took a bite of the bland substance. She'd been eating the stuff for years, still couldn't get used to the damn things…

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Synchronous_Orbit

Taerosa Denvara_Farseer

Fire, destruction, suffering, the screaming of thousands of souls rent from their bodies. She saw her home in ruins, warped and decrepit, corrupted by the all consuming destruction. The silent, yet unimaginably loud agony of so many of her people. It never ended, the torment, the horror, the vision.

"Farseer, we're approaching the monkeigh world." A voice pulled Taerosa Denvara from her vision. She allowed her runes to lower themselves carefully despite the interruption. These rangers… they had no sense of respect, or rather no sense of common decency. But, they were the only ones willing to believe, and even risk their lives helping her on this dangerous mission.

"You should not be so flippant about disturbing me when I'm looking into the skeins of our future. It could cost us valuable foresight," she replied as she gathered her runes.

"You've already told us the bulk of it. Something bad is going to happen to Faendar, unless we come to this monkeigh world to stop it at the source. What more might we need to know, surely this force you speak of will be obvious when it shows up." The Ranger smirked, he gave off a devil-may-care attitude, Taerosa could hardly stand it.

"It could be very important, especially if I missed all the ways to avoid your death." Taerosa spoke nonchalantly, partially to try and instil some humility into the Ranger before her. Though she'd be lying if she said it wasn't important, every Eldar life counted, even the insufferable fool before her.

Said fool merely chuckled lowly shaking his head. "Farseer, your concern is appreciated, but if I'm to meet my end on this little quest of yours, then it shall at least be a good one I have no doubt."

Taerosa shook her head. "You should not regard your life so carelessly. Thank you for informing me of our approach, now Ranger, if you please. I'll need to change for planetfall."

The Ranger held his hands up. "Not that I'd mind the view, but sure I'll let you have your privacy Farseer. We make planetfall in minus thirty, so change quickly. And my name is Lomon by the way." With that the Ranger left closing the door behind him and leaving Taerosa to her task.

"Rangers..." the Farseer muttered under her breath. Shedding the simple cloth robes she wore the majority of her time she approached the alter which held her wargear. It had been a long time since she was out in the field like this, but still she took pride that her armour was well maintained despite it. First the undersuit, snug, it felt tighter than she remembered. Next her wraithbone armour, that thankfully still contoured her body perfectly, even after so many decades. Her surcoat was next, it was shorter than what she had seen as the norm, reaching only just to her knees. All of the usual unnecessary fabric other farseers wore had always seemed to ask for trouble. The flowing fabric was worn more as a badge of her path than any other practical reason.

Finally, her witchblade, the wavy shape was of frightening sharpness, lined with runes and helix crystalline-psychic matrix. Taerosa felt the blade fall in tune with her as soon as she picked it up, the feeling was familiar and welcoming. Sheathing it at her side she adjusted her surcoat, vanity was unbecoming of an Eldar, but Taerosa would be lying if she said she didn't take pride in her appearance ever so slightly.

Part of the reason she wasn't as trusted as many other Farseers. Among other reasons…

Breathing she turned sharply and went through the portal of her chambers. The Ranger ship was quite… primitive to her eyes, not of the usual wrathbone that made up so much Eldar technology. Instead it was a salvaged and re-purposed Imperial ship of indeterminable origin. The lead Ranger, Lomon, he claimed it helped him and his compatriots recon Imperial space far easier.

Why a sleek and unseen Eldar made vessel could not fit that bill too Taerosa had no idea. But, again Lomon and his were the only ones willing to believe her, despite their quirkiness—something expected of outcasts—Taerosa had sensed nothing but truth, and actual faith in their souls.

As she entered the command deck a catcall broke her from this train of thought quickly… she could not stand Rangers. An icy glare sent the way of the whistler silenced him immediately, though Taerosa did not get the satisfaction of seeing his ashamed expression behind the cloth mask he wore. Looking around she saw that all of the Rangers had gathered in preparation for their mission.

They had quite the assortment of equipment, from the usual fair of long rifles, shuriken launchers, a death spinner, and even a ghost-axe. It was very motley, but Taerosa saw the inherent usefulness in having such a variety of options. It helped that despite her dislike of them that the nine Rangers around her seemed quite competent.

"Down boys and girls, the Farseer is our guest," Lomon spoke as he appeared at her side, he had been hanging back by the entry way waiting for her arrival. "Now, Farseer you've told us the broad strokes, but now that we're in orbit. My pilot will need some concrete coordinates for us to begin this mission of yours."

Taerosa cleared her throat, looking around at her audience. "Based upon the skeins we should land in the Eastern sector of the monkeigh world. From there we will be setting up base-camp within Briem, their capitol city, we need not have exact coordinates yet. Simply find us a safe landing zone if you can, that will be enough for now."

"Anything more than that? I mean there's supposed to be some genocidal threat down there right. So far all our scans have shown are monkeighs, orks, and tau killing each other as per the usual. What's the big problem?" Catcall Ranger asked.

"Baharryss..." Lomon grumbled, about to shut the man up.

"No that's quite alright," Taerosa cut the lead Ranger off. Fixing Baharryss with another glare Taerosa addressed his question. "The skeins are seldom completely clear. But what is certain is that if we do not stop whatever is going to happen here, Faendar will burn to its infinity circuit, every soul on our world lost to she-who-thirsts. When we get down there I'll be able to discern the skeins much clearer, for now I just need you all to get me into that city safely." She paused for effect, "clear enough for you Ranger?"

He held his hands up placating her. "Hey, no offense meant Farseer. Just wanted to know what we'll be up against is all."

Taerosa nodded at the man, then turned her attention to Lomon and did the same for him, an unspoken statement between him and her.

"Alright then you outcasts, time to get the lady where she needs to be. For the sake of our home!" Lomon spoke, a cheer rising up from the assembled crew. They went about double quick to their assigned tasks, getting wargear ready and manning their stations on the bridge.

"Caltar take us down," Lomon ordered the pilot.

"With pleasure," he answered back with glee as he gracefully veered the ship onto its new course. Despite the crude origins of their ship Taerosa was pleasantly surprised when she felt little to no shift as the pilot artfully flew the ship toward their destination.

She was staring out at the growing orb of wartorn world when a vision hit her. Galaxy weary resolve and emotion, naive devotion to a false cause, and savage simplistic glee. The swirl of emotions form their own separate, small speck of light in the warp, yet bright in their part and purpose in the skein. Her own brightness eclipsing theirs, gathering alongside the separate souls.

Hovering above them all, a terrible malice, directed in its purpose, followed closely by another lesser evil… she snapped out of the trance breathing heavy. Gazing around she noted that if any of the Rangers had noticed—as they likely would have—that none said anything.

She suddenly felt a foreign hand on her shoulder making her jump a bit. Looking back she saw Lomon's concerned gaze.

"Everything alright Farseer, what was it?"

Taking a moment to steady herself Taerosa answered. "Just a vivid stirring in the skeins."

"Something important to our mission?" Lomon queried.

"Yes, I think so, but I don't know exactly what it means," Taerosa breathed in evenly. "We need to be on that world yesterday..."

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Synchronous_Orbit

Arhvyn Fahrvan_Archon_Forgotten Mercy Kabal

"Archon, there is something interesting on the sensors." The pallid operator spoke with utmost respect, and even a hint of fear to his lord.

Arhvyn Fahrvan looked up from his prior activity. The poor thing had stopped screaming long ago, and she was near to becoming an unresponsive quivering mass before long. The Archon patted the mewling figure tenderly on her head before he moved from his place above her.

"Send this one to the Haemonculi, have her get it feeling and sane again for when I next need it." Arhvyn motioned for one of his retainers to take care of the quivering figure.

He grasped his klaive, the large blade light as a feather in his artful grip. Stowing the weapon across his back he made his way over to the operator's station. Pleased that he saw a nigh imperceptible shiver run through his underling's form as he came up behind him. Tapping his fingers impatiently on the console where his subordinate was monitoring the planet and the space around it Arhvyn sighed.

"Well, what would be so important for you to take me away from my personal pursuits?" He questioned, as always the underlying threat below his calm calculated tone there.

"This ship just entering atmo, right there," the operator pointed on his display.

"Seems to be another simple monkeigh freighter going to aid with their futile war." The Archon's bored tone was equally unnerving to the operator, when he got bored he became even more cruel.

"Y-yes Archon, but looking closely that flight pattern is much too precise to be a mere monkeigh pilot. That, and our scans are picking up Eldar technology, plus a very high psychic presence." The operator was quick to correct his tardiness, giving the Archon the information he wanted. Suddenly he could feel the air practically freeze as the information hit the Archon, and the operator stiffened as his lords tapping stopped.

"Are you telling me, that there is a Farseer on that ship." Arhvyn asked as an excited tingle ran through his being.

"Yes Archon."

Arhvyn stepped back from the console taking a moment to let the information flow over him. Thinking of the possible prestige such a capture could grant him, perhaps even power should he play his cards right. A Farseer could catapult his Kabal of Forgotten Mercy into a position of power on par with some of the higher houses. If not then the tidy profit gained from the auction would be adequate enough by itself.

"Summon the Forgotten Mercy's best, we have a Farseer to capture." He turned elegantly on his heel heading back to his quarters to ready himself for the raid. He would not be leaving the Farseer's capture to mere chance, he would be accompanying his underlings.

Arhvyn smiled wickedly to himself as the thought of capturing a Farseer sunk in. It was an opportunity not to be squandered.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Location_Unknown

Archibald Marc

Twelve Hooded figures chanted, they channeled their dark intents and faith into the individual at the center of their gathering. A large figure, in grotesque armor, face peeled back distorting any previously recognizable features. Holding onto a very large, serrated, cross-shaped great-sword planted blade-first into the solid rockcrete at his feet, the central figure was acting as a beacon.

He cracked a sharp-toothed, distorted smile as he received communion with his approaching lord. His signal had been strong enough, it guided his warhost to this ripe corpse-worshiping planet, Princip. Soon warp-fire would sweep across the wartorn land about him, truth would be felt by all who called Princip home as their faith's were swept away.

Various vanguard cells planted under the very feet of their enemies would assure a planet-wide attack when the time was right. Psykers converted to the cause would open rifts to the warp upon his psychic command causing a cataclysmic first strike.

Leaving room only for the one truth to be recognized, and so Archibald Marc grinned.

* * *

 **300-709.**


	2. Converging

_**"Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered."- William Shakespeare**_

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Resea Arana_Master Sergeant

They were making steady progress, they had taken out around four ork nobs since they had begun their work. So of course things would get fubar within the first few days. Resea growled under her breath as they ran double-time through the streets of Briem's eastern sector. Word had reached them of the major Tau offensive all but obliterating the PDF's eastern lines. Command couldn't redirect enough troops to the area.

So she and hers now found themselves heading toward what was sure to be a hard battle. It didn't help that the general wanted them there ten minutes ago. It didn't help that their new objective was five miles away, and they were on foot, in ork held territory. And it didn't help that she felt so exposed, and she knew her troopers felt it too, though they didn't voice any complaint.

They stopped at the end of every block, made sure all was clear, and then moved on. Any ork mobs they came across were tragically left alive as they ghosted by. She was hoping that the PDF platoon they were supposed to meet would actually be at the set rendezvous point. The way things were going they may very well have been slaughtered.

Worse than orks Tau were damn smart, she was loath to admit, but it was the truth. Damn any who called her a heretic for having that common sense. Scum hit you from farther away than you could hit them, and nearly all of their weapons made mince meat of Imperial armor and bodies. Despite all that Resea couldn't help but be a little excited. She lived for this after all.

Just ahead of them their rally point was in view, it used to be some sort of municipal park. Trees would cover the converging troops for the counter attack set to happen. Jogging into the park they stopped in a playground, the small obstacle course structures brought back memories. Back on Cadia structures like these were used to teach Cadian children how to negotiate uneven terrain, not for recreation. They hid among jungle gyms, slides, rope walls, and wood-chips.

Resea took out her whistle, common when the vox-net was breaking down, or not to be trusted. She gave a series of toots, they waited in the pregnant silence for moments. After a few heartbeats longer than she felt comfortable the proper response was heard not far off, north of their position. Emerging from their cover first Resea made the habitual handsign for her squad to stay back, better just one of them then all if this was somehow a ruse by the enemy.

Breathing an internal sigh of relief when a PDF Captain emerged from behind the foliage before her. He looked young, though tested if the state his armor was in was any indication. Princips PDF uniform was somewhat familiar, based upon Cadia's own style. Though the flak-vests were slightly more covering than the standard Cadian breastplate. The Captain was only recognizable as such by his bars, smartly camouflaged to almost blend in with his uniform, and the chainsword hanging from his side.

Soon after others began to turn up behind the man, quite a bit more than she had been told. Guess command really does want to take back the sector was the thought running through her mind.

"Master Sergeant Resea Arana, Cadian Kasrkin." She introduced with a quick field salute, the man before her was a Captain after all. Behind her she could hear the rest of her squad doing the same, having come out from cover upon seeing safe contact. The PDF Captain returned the salute cordially.

"Honor to serve with you and yours Ma'am, Captain Recker. Behind me is Eighth Company, we'll be your distraction, along with remnants of the 23rd armored division." He replied professionally, it made Resea's respect for Princips PDF rise a bit, these men were all clearly veterans of this war. It showed in the way they held themselves, concealed themselves, their battleworn weapons and armor also adding to the effect.

"What is it exactly that we'll be doing Captain." Resea as was her custom cut to the chase quickly.

Captain Recker took a deep breath. "The Eighth and 23rd will be launching a full counter attack from here, xenos lines are just outside of the park to the east. That'll be..." He checked his chronometer. "About ten minutes from now, so you made good time. As we do this the 50th Airborne are going to be raining down via valkyrie, or at least trying to. The xenos have a forward operating base, one of their mantas, command wants it destroyed. Unfortunately their air defenses are too good for missile strike, and the artillery batteries in the area have all been destroyed..."

"I'm guessing that's where me and my squad comes in, correct," she replied, a statement, not a question. Captain Recker nodded gravely, making a hand motion as he did so. Two of his troopers came running up at a brisk jog, each holding two satchel bags.

"Chock full of melta-charges, and Krak grenades. Weren't sure if you'd still have any, being that you've been taking down nobs and all." Recker smiled wryly. Resea wasn't surprised, rumor traveled quickly, Kasrkins, orks, it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were assigned to do.

"Appreciated Captain, am I to assume that we'll be infiltrating under the shadow of your offensive. If so we ought to get to whatever position will be most advantageous, shouldn't we." She smiled wryly right back to the Captain, Hanne and Riren came forward and took the satchels, passing them among the rest of the squad.

Recker smiles again in return. "Aye, that would be right, your best bet is a little over half-a-klick that way," he pointed south east of the direction the counter attack would be going. "It'll be an old refinery, you'll know it when you see it. You'll have a straight run at the manta, good cover from there to it, and us to keep the blue-skinned cretins off your scent."

Resea nodded, made a hand motion and turned with her squad to leave, three minutes, the counter-offensive would begin very soon.

"Good luck Master Sergeant, may the Emperor protect you," she heard Recker call out, the sound of marching followed as the PDF company moved into position. A cacophony of engines roaring to life as the 23rd prepared their venerable war-machines for battle. And in the distance, the barely heard sound of hundreds of valkyries as they flew droptroopers to their fate. Resea didn't bother uttering the same sentiment to the poor Captain.

She knew the game by now, he and his men, the 23rd, and the 50th were all dead meat. Command just wanted this patch of sector, there were more bodies ready to secure it after they opened the way. All that was truly vital was for her and her team to destroy this manta, deny the Tau their command structure. With their commanders dead and F.O.B destroyed they'd have no choice but to pull their remaining forces out, of face obliteration in this area.

They were only just out of the park when they heard the dissonance of battle. Not terribly far from them, she could see the flashes of lasfire, main tank cannons, and xenos plasma. Refinery coming into view not to long after, they moved quickly, she may have been fighting for dead men, but she'd try to make their sacrifice meaningful at least. Recker was right, it was a straight shot from the refinery, with ample cover on either side to hide them from view, it took the form of an old trench system, abandoned when the area was overtaken by the Tau.

They made quick progress through the system, coming up not thirty meters from their objective. Behind enemy lines the Tau forces were focused on the large offensive attacking their position. There weren't many guards to defend the area, most of their forces out expanding their control, but the few left behind seemed more than enough for the Imperial attackers. Their accurate and devastating weapon-fire cutting the offensive to pieces.

Glancing to the side Resea caught sight of the epic battle. A Leman Russ tank pierced through by rail-cannon, its crew exiting through the new hole as the velocity of the round carried them with it. PDF cut down by xeno war-mechs, and pulse fire as they charged from cover to cover. For a moment she actually caught sight of Recker, the man was a maelstrom, standard in one hand, chainsword in the other, as he led his men forward. He was making a good showing of himself, actually getting his troops to close the distance with him, where he and they finally began to cut down the enemy in close combat.

He finally disappeared behind some structures, her last view of him was him bisecting a firewarrior.

Placing focus back on the objective she made quick motions with her hands. Indicating to her squad the left-over sentries by the entrances of the manta.

She watched as Starkrage and Jar went up quickly, the xenos were distracted by the battle without. They came upon them without remorse, their combat knives piercing through armor as their victims struggled feebly against them. Silent and quick, just as she like it. Stacking up along the sides of the entrance into the manta they went in cautiously. The xenos structure was surprisingly familiar, a bit more high-tech looking than what she was used to, but similar enough.

Having had training on the layout of such vessels she knew where to go. They had to get to the drives, explosives set there would rend the manta into pieces in spectacular fashion. They made their way through troop bays, oddly bare of any enemy presence. It would seem that whoever was in command was very worried about their PDF comrades.

The manta was large, it would take them some time to work their way to the drives. They came upon maintenance personal as they went. Widened eyes usually proceeded the surprised xenos demises, short and stocky, they weren't the warrior caste of the race as Resea had come to understand. They fell to hellgun-fire and Amputator shells quite readily. Through the uniform halls of the ship they went, the sounds of the battle outside were audible even inside of the ship, from the sound of it the PDF were giving the Tau a good fight.

There was little more resistance until they finally found the engine room, the xenos drives quite different from Imperial warp-drives, though still bearing some resemblance. Spreading into the room to cover all bases they came upon actual resistance. Five Tau firewarriors acting as last ditch emergency security spun about at their clatter. Kasrkins trained practically since birth they all dove for what cover they could get in the drive room as the xenos let pulse rounds fly.

Resea returned fire immediately with her squad, she was less worried about her rounds hitting anything vital, another benefit of using a shotgun. Her hit didn't outright kill, due to the admitted quality of the xenos armor, but they did stagger and suppress, enough for Riren, and the others to land killing blows with their las weapons, Hanne had to resort to her hellpistol for the firefight. Grenade-launchers in such a delicate room may well blow them all to the warp.

One by one the left over firewarriors were cut down, the precise fire, and experience of the kasrkin besting even their advanced technology. Resea watched in morbid satisfaction as one of her amputator rounds finally landed a deadly hit, the last xenos having gotten hit in the neck, its armor thinner there the round messily decapitated the unfortunate victim, an admittedly lucky shot.

She gave a nod, her people knowing what to do began to quickly go about their task. They had divided the charges equally amongst themselves, each picking out important bits of the xenos engine drives. Resea herself attached her own charges to what amounted to the connections for the drive controls. At the least if by some miracle they didn't completely destroy the manta, it would be grounded for quite a while, with the control feeds obliterated.

They set the charges for a time-limit of ten minutes, all they would need to get clear. Though Resea kept hold of the manual detonator just in case they got out earlier. Was always good to have redundancies. Task done they began to bugout of the ship, double-time through the halls, still cautious, though slightly more relaxed in the knowledge they had already been cleared. Dead xenos laborers were a testament to their efforts as they retraced their steps.

Exiting from the manta Resea was surprised to still hear the sounds of a desperate battle. Xenos forces were winning, that much was certain, but she still saw the PDF forces pushing on, the 23rd armored was all but destroyed, their vaunted Leman Russ tanks lay inert, holes punched clean through. What was left of the eighth and 50th were using these husks for cover as they put up resistance.

Even more surprising she could still see Recker, a chunk missing from his side, but he had planted the standard in a Tau corpse. Swinging his chainsword around like a man possessed at the enemies around him. The xenos were trying to run from him, but ended up cut down as they retreated, he used their bodies as cover for himself as he worked his way along. Despite their valiant efforts, it was obvious they wouldn't win the battle.

At least if all had been let be, but Resea was in the position to change that. They got to the safe cover of the trench system. "Everyone say ah..." Resea muttered, typical safety protocol, said out of habit, to prevent eardrums rupturing from the overpressure. Probably not necessary for the fury about to be unleashed. She hit the trigger.

First the sound of a sizzling _whoosh_ as melta-charges went off, followed by the conventional _booms_ of the extra tube-charges they sprinkled about for good measure. Topped off by the indescribable sound of a small warp-drive going up, ethereal purple flames licked up into the sky, as what could only be described as the howling of the damned echoed through the air.

With the shock-wave of the explosion at their backs the remaining Tau defenders were caught completely off-guard. Some even caught shrapnel, or had their insides liquified by the concussive force. Those left unharmed quickly found themselves staring down the barrels of lasguns, or on the ends of bayonets, wielded by vengeful PDF leftovers. Remaining PDF forces took the initiative the destruction of the manta caused, and began the systematic slaughter of the fumbling Tau survivors.

Resea had her squad move out, they stalked from the flank of the xenos stragglers, lending accurate weapon-fire to aid their PDF comrades. Getting hit from two different directions the remaining Tau were cut down even more thoroughly. Resea had switched over to her penetrator-rounds, their additional armor-piercing capability worked to fantastic effect, cutting through even the sturdy nano-crystaline Tau armor.

When the final xeno fell, cut down by roaring chainsword wielded by the venerable Captain Recker himself, the surviving PDF assaulters let out a loud cheer. Holding their weapons high, their elation at having survived, and won, palpable in the air, there weren't many of them though.

Resea found herself walking toward the surviving Captain, the man had certainly proved his salt to her. The small crowd of PDF survivors surrounding the man parted for the Kasrkin, allowing her and her squad free movement out of deference. They may not have participated in the main battle, but all knew that had it not been for their destruction of the manta, that all would have certainly perished.

"Captain Recker, it is good to see that you still live. Though I'll have my medicae have a look at you," Resea indicated the rather large wound in his side.

Recker gave her a smile and waved Jar off kindly as the man approached. "Good to see you successful Master Sergeant, don't worry about this though, just a flesh wound." He removed tattered remains of his armor and clothing on the wound. It revealed a patchwork of augmetic organs pumping, and working away beneath synth-flesh. "Already lost that lung, kidney, and damn near everything on that side. Them cog-docs sure do a good job with replacements eh?"

"Indeed they do, that's certainly good to hear, it would be a hard loss on Princips PDF had you fallen." Resea returned in kind, she was beginning to like the man more and more despite her usual reservations. "How many of your comrades survived the offensive?" She asked lowly.

"I'd say unfortunately only a little over a platoon, mixed between everyone. We're all likely to be mashed together to form a scratch unit and continue the Emperors good work." He stated just as lowly.

"That's good, the war-effort needs you on the front-lines Captain." She paused shifting her stance. "I know that I'm technically the subordinate here Captain, but I would suggest you take your remaining men back to the supply lines. Get rest, restock on equipment, and be fresh for the future. Command will be moving in another complement to secure the area soon, you can go then."

"I'd be lying if I didn't say that sounds very tempting Master Sergeant, but what about you?" Recker queried in turn.

"We're to continue hunting down the remaining xenos in the area, there are certainly more of them out there, trying to expand their territory. Once they realize their command base has been destroyed, and that our forces are coming back in bulk to reclaim the area they're likely to retreat. The best time to cut down the enemy, as you know, is when they show you their back." Resea reasoned, "besides, my squad and I are still fresh. We had the easy part of this offensive, it's only fair we continue on, don't you think?"

Recker seemed thoughtful on her words, letting his posture relax as he considered them. "Suppose you're correct on that Master Sergeant, in that case, leave the reporting of the situation to me. I'll be sure the arriving forces send out a mop-up team to assist you when they get here." He concluded, offering a salute out of respect. Resea returned it quickly. "I do hope that our paths cross again Kasrkin, good hunting."

Resea nodded her agreement, before turning on her heel and leading the way for her squad to follow. Good hunting indeed, they would show the Tau what happen when you messed with the Emperors hammer. Chancing one final glance over her shoulder she spotted Recker standing there, chainsword in hand, surrounded by his men, xenos bodies underfoot. The man looked like a true hero of the Imperium, Resea really did hope they'd meet again.

Looking back ahead she turned focus once again to her mission. The ork hunt was to be stalled, they'd have to take out as many of the Tau survivors in the area as possible. Still holding on to a good portion of the sector the remaining Tau forces may soon try to evacuate the survivors, and any left alive would only add difficulty to future battles. Better to be rid of them.

They cleared the area of the battle, leaving Recker and his PDF survivors behind. Going back into the city proper they found more evidence of the Tau's passing. Judging by the evidence Resea guessed the main bulk of the Tau forces from that manta were still pushing on. Due to how well the xenos communication network worked, Resea felt it wise to assume the remaining forces already knew of the destruction of their operations base.

From past battles she knew their next likely move would be to stay put where they were, and wait for friendly pickup. Whatever position they fortified would likely be hard to get into, but it was what she and her team specialized in. They'd be taking out whichever xeno was in command, further causing turmoil in their ranks and breaking apart their coherence.

"Master Sergeant, got some evidence of orks in the area..." Riren commented as he pointed out a few dead gretchen off to their right, barely hidden behind some debris.

"There were indications of a nob and his boys in the area, before the Tau got here that is, the orks must be providing resistance as much as the PDF were." Starkrage added as he checked his weapon-pack.

"It doesn't change our objective, elimination of Tau command takes precedent. Hopefully the greenskins will make our job easier by providing a welcome distraction." Resea made known.

"Hah, xenos scum killing each other for us! Nothing better than that, am-i-right Jar?" Hanne commented, clear pleasure and exuberance in her voice.

"Certainly better than the alternative," Jar replied stoically.

Getting farther toward where their targets would hopefully be they began to see more signs of the greenskins. PDF corpses were long dead, and cooling, by now, whereas the ork bodies were fresh. Resea snorted in slight aggravation, the Tau didn't even have the decency to burn the greenskin bodies to prevent their spores from infecting the ground. She took solace knowing that the PDF coming in behind her would have the common sense to pick up the xenos slack. Unfortunately, none of them possessed a flamer, nor could they afford to give away their position even if they did.

It was with some satisfaction that they also found a few dead Tau as well, cleaved, or otherwise blow to bits by crude ork weaponry. Resea had to give the greenskins credit on one thing, they hit hard. In their hush the distinct sound of Tau pulse-fire, as well as ork shootas was starting to become audible. Still a ways off, but certainly close enough.

Clinging to the back alleys they avoided open spaces as much as they could. Orks may have been easy to hide from, but the sensors of the Tau had the chance of picking up their signatures. Thus the need to creep through built-up refuse, long forgotten in the evacuation of the sector, so much waste could probably be useful for something, other than staying there to rot.

Resea was almost tempted to use her re-breather to stop the stench. Ignoring such impulses though they all continued on, their prey was close. Coming upon what used to be a municipal clerks office they saw their first view of the Tau in proper action. A small, lightly armored, pathfinder was leading a mob of orks down the road ahead of them to the office. The xeno's drones harassing the orks and shielding the pathfinder from any stray shoota fire.

Whooping and hollering in their bloodlust the orks didn't notice the obvious trap. Within moments pulse-fire from the windows of the office cut down the hardy greenskins. The pathfinder none the worse for wear, he continued on to the imperial building, quickly walking inside where his comrades certainly awaited him.

"There's our target, and there's sure to be quite a few of them in there. Too bad we used all of the charges on that manta," Resea remarked. "We'll get in through the back way, they're sure to have it covered, but the area behind is clustered with buildings with plenty of cover for us to get close."

"Play into our strengths by taking them room by room eh?" Riren commented. Resea nodded back to her sniper, that was the plan. At a distance they were surely outclassed, even with as accomplished a marksman as Riren on their side, but room to room the Tau would have trouble getting a bead on them with their long pulse-rifles. Whereas their short, but powerful hellguns, shotgun, and grenade launcher would be able to make mince-meat of the xenos.

"With the orks in the area their attention should be occupied thoroughly too. But, we're still gonna have to worry about the greenskins coming up on us once we breach the office. They're what we are to the tau at close range to us," Hanne added in. "Never wanna ork to catch you off guard."

"True enough, let's go," Resea said closing the conversation. Taking a wide arc they cut through, or around the buildings leading up to the clerical office. Spotting small mobs here and there, all separate and seeming to compete with each other. Every ork wants to be the one to fight the new and exciting xenos first after all. Lucky for them this made it easy for to sneak around the occupied greenskins.

Coming to the back entrance of the offices they found no sentries posted there. The Tau probably only just recently stopped here if they didn't have sentries posted, probably just a quick stop for slight rest. Entering the back door once Hanne had picked the lock, so they could enter quietly, the Kasrkin spread out professionally, covering every possible corner as they did so.

Stalking down the various hallways decorated with writs, and other Imperial bureaucratic awards, they kept vigilant for signs of first contact. Resea had already been making the necessary handsigns to her squad, they said effectively to hit hard whatever they saw. The noise would most likely attract the orks, but that would yield its own benefits. If they got backed into a corner, or otherwise bit off more than they could chew, a mob of orks breaking in would certainly turn attention away from them. Add to the chaos, only when it'll benefit you, or so the saying went.

Catching sight of their first Tau they immediately went to work, Resea being the first to fire, an extra loud, penetrator-round. The Tau had seen them before she had pulled the trigger, without a helmet, it winced a surprised expression dawned on its alien features. Then the penetrator-round crashed into its shoulder causing it to pirouette back into the room it emerged from with a yelp.

Moving on the entrance quickly they stormed into the room, now filled with surprised looking Tau huddled around eating their rations. Too late they realized the danger, and too late the Tau were to ready their weapons. But the Kasrkin already had their weapons good to go. In a hail of lasfire, and penetrator rounds, they cleaned out the room of xenos filth. At the end of the brief firefight all seven Tau were dead, and the rest of the office probably knew they were there.

Retreating from the room they went swiftly down the hallway, until they came upon more Tau. These ready for a fight, getting into the cover they could the Kasrkin went about their work. Weapon-chatter filled the halls of the clerks office as they dueled with xenos. Prodigious training and experience allowing them to kill their foes.

Outside they heard an echoing 'Waagh,' as the ork mobs also heard the firefight. With the green tide ready to descend upon them all at once the true battle was about to start.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Shas'La_T'olku Irah

Their cadre was in it deep now, that was something Irah knew for sure. Shas'Ui had confirmed as much once they all got the communication. The forward operating base, the manta, destroyed, a gue'la counterattack, command hadn't expected the humans to respond so fast. Even then they had thought themselves capable of holding off such an assault, they hadn't counted on the gue'la special forces to slip through as they did and set charges.

It was the only logical way the humans could have bested them, the Tau had been strategically placed outside of the gue'la artillery range. Their position likewise had been on the high-ground, and their weapons more than capable of repelling such a straight forward assault as the drone recordings had shown them. Irah was scared, even though his Shas'Ui had assured them all of their imminent exfiltration. Orca dropships were on their way to shuttle them elsewhere to a better secured area of operations.

Despite this assured safety everyone in the cadre was hurting in morale. Shas'O Vas'ya Man'min had been a beloved commander, all evidence via drone recording and communication pointed to his demise in the explosion. To think Irah had been worried about the barbaric greenskins, especially when an enemy as cunning as the gue'la were against them. It was a hard lesson to swallow, no matter how many times he turned it about in his head.

Tau doctrine specifically minimized the loss of life, how could it have failed? From all the stories he'd heard of the gue'la from his elders they were capable, but not that capable. How one team managed to infiltrate and take down a Manta was frightening, and Irah still wasn't sure he believed it. It very well must have been something else, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about. He'd heard the stories of Imperial war-titans, but surely something that massive wouldn't be used in such a dense urban center.

"Shas'la, I can tell by your face that you're thinking too much. We must keep a clear head, and not dwell on things out of our control. Calm yourself," his Shas'Ui tried to ease his tension. "Perhaps sentry duty will take you're mind off things, give you something to focus on."

"Yes Shas'Ui, I think it will, thank you." Irah replied gratefully, his Shas'Ui was correct. Something to keep his eyes and body occupied would help with his restless thoughts. With a nod his Shas'Ui dismissed him to his task, Irah placed his helmet back upon his head, took up his rifle, and headed out. He exited the room he had occupied with the Shas'Ui and a few other comrades. Walking down the halls of the gue'la structure he was fascinated by all of their religious iconography.

Gothic carvings in the wall, the symbol they called the Aquila, and murals of their 'God-Emperor' all added and blended together to make him wonder about the race as a whole. He could scarce imagine how a civilization steeped in such religious furor, and technological stagnancy could come to practically dominate the galaxy. Certainly the truth offered by the greater good was preferable, even to dullards of such fanatical bent?

Finding the proper room Irah went in to join another Shas'la, another new blood like himself. Shas'La Ak'na Viro if he remembered her name right, they had been cadets together. He took up position at the opposite side of the window they were looking out of, screened with one-way paper to prevent those outside from seeing in. She merely looked in his direction to acknowledge his presence, Irah had not been the best cadet around, his short-comings were the stuff of jokes when going through training.

"The gue'la are more cunning than the Shas'O gave them credit for." Viro initiated after quite a few moments of pregnant silence. Irah startled at the sound of her voice, he had not expected her to want to chat. Gaze idly out the window he noted the dead orks in the street, the latest victims of their on going kauyon attacks against the greenskins to secure the area for the Orcas arrival. Ambush worked well against the dull greenskins, the number of bodies outside a testament to that fact.

"Yes, but who really thought the gue'la would have been able to destroy the Manta." Irah replied in kind.

Viro turned to him sharply. "That is exactly the kind of thinking that got us into this mess. One should never underestimate an enemy, thought you would have learned that after that ork almost cleaved you in two." She responded almost caustically. Irah heard her displeasure loud and clear, he was just beginning to remember they had always been at odds with each other when training.

"It certainly left a lasting impression..." He mumbled right back, if she heard it though she didn't indicate.

"Waiting for this Orca is torture, the gue'la could be coming for us any moment." Viro said this worriedly, Irah detected genuine fear in her voice. He supposed that despite their differences they were still both mostly untested cadets, one battle did not a firewarrior make.

"Why would the gue'la come after us? Surely they'd want to secure the strategic area the Manta was situated in before moving on. That should buy us enough time for the Orcas to get here and shuttle us away." Unthinking, he responded again.

"Think, there must have been some gue'la special force used to destroy the Manta. A typical assault should have been held at bay. So that means that there's a high possibility the best of the gue'la forces are out there hunting us down. No matter how primitive they are by our standards, they have been waging war for millennia before us, that has to count for something, no matter what the Ethereals would have us believe." Her words border lined on sedition, questioning the Ethereals? But Irah couldn't find fault with her observations.

It hadn't sunk in until now. The orks were one thing, merely little more than sentient fungus, but the gue'la were another. An intelligent, though fanatical, race who had been faring the stars several times longer than his own. And despite its inelegant nature, their technology was in some ways superior to his own. Not that Irah would ever admit that out loud.

Instead he settled for. "I suppose you are correct." Much to Viro's somewhat displeased snort.

"Of course I am," she stated triumphantly, her high and mighty personality coming through.

They kept watch for a while more in silence, and Irah had to admit that though their conversation had been about his exact worries, at least it had actually kept him from mulling them over. Added to that the action of scanning the street for enemies and he was calmed considerably. They watched as a pathfinder came into view, an ork mob at his back, his drones keeping their attention and their wild shots from hitting him.

He heard Viro make the report before he could. "Pathfinder coming down route three, rifles at the ready." She relayed smoothly, they were one of many look out teams. Their job to report and coordinate any enemy, or friendly movements, such as this. Irah choked down the urge to sight in on one of the foul greenskins chasing his comrade, they were not part of the gunmen meant to fire.

Instead he contented himself as he heard the report of pulse-rifles answering Viro's call. The mob of orks was cut down by perfect accuracy, the riflemen doing their job excellently. Despite his traumatic first experience with an ork, Irah not for the first time, was still at a loss as to how the brutes had managed to be such a problem to the galaxy. With proper tactics, and training they went down as easy as anything else did.

"It's difficult not to see them as easily defeated foes, especially with such a display." Viro mused, her tone low and for once seemingly non-hostile to him, turning to look at him pointedly. "I imagine being up close to one is an entirely different story though. Is it true that you managed to wound the brute with your oath-blade?"

Her question and honest curiosity certainly caught him off-guard, Irah almost stuttered out his response. "Y-yes, not much else that I could do. It was throwing me around like I weighed nothing at all, and our sensors didn't even pick the brute up. Could you believe something that big could hide like that? It was like he just materialized into the pill-box with us."

"No I wouldn't have believed you had the Shas'Ui not confirmed everything. I suppose that I have to be careful too, underestimating the enemy that is. Clearly the orks are very much formidable, under the right circumstances." Viro leaned back in her seat, her posture relaxing, even though her attitude toward him seemed unchanged.

Irah nodded silently, turning his eyes back to the stretch of road they were watching. Viro seeing that her fellow Shas'La didn't want to speak any further turned her attention back as well. Their watch was passing by quietly since the pathfinder had brought the mob for ambush. Irah was beginning to get complacent, which was why the _whip-cracks_ , and _booms_ had him jumping to his feet pulse-rifle in hands.

"That was definitely from within this building. Sounded like gue'la las-weapons," Viro stood much more calmly than Irah, readying her own pulse-rifle. More echoing weapon fire followed as the unseen enemy began to encounter more resistance.

"How many do you think there are?" Irah asked as he fidgeted, his nervousness returning in full. Outside they heard an almighty 'Waagh!' as the multitude of roaming ork mobs in the area took notice of the commotion.

"I don't think the gue'la's numbers are the one's we'll have to worry about!" Viro exclaimed forcefully as she elbowed past him and proceeded out the door. Unable to consider action himself Irah simply followed, a barely uttered curse on his lips. Exiting out into the hall he found Viro waiting for him, ready to go.

"About time," she offered tersely, turning to lead the way. They joined several other firewarriors all stirred from their duties as they went to respond to whatever was attacking them. Communication chatter finally began to flow through their helmets as reports of the situation were being relayed. Five gue'la, heavily armed, and tearing through their defenses. Irah could scarcely believe it, just five of them, and they were causing some much turmoil. Icons blinked to life on their H.U.D's as order were relayed for where they were to rally.

Things got worse as reports began flowing in from the perimeter guard, greenskins absolutely flowing through the streets. A literal green tide descending on their little bastion, the gue'la seemed not to know, or care as they continued to pick apart the hunter cadre. Through the hallways they went, having gathered half a dozen firewarriors as they did. Any others were occupied holding fire-lines, aiming from windows, firing on the greenskins encroaching in their hundreds.

Spilling down stairs to the first floor, out into an office area, they were harried by the rows of cubicles. Ahead they saw their comrades firing and being fired upon by their attackers. Clad in their full body armor, and firing a multitude of weapons the gue'la were racking up an impressive body count. Irah could scarcely believe his own eyes as he saw comrade after comrade fall to the deadly competent Imperials. Using their powerful hellguns the enemy's deadly light energy was even able to penetrate nano-crystaline armor.

Not to mention the terribly primitive, but highly effective, slug-thrower Irah spotted one of the gue'la using, whatever it was it seemed to not have any problems falling whatever firewarrior it hit. And then one of them was using a grenade-launcher of some sort to suppress the bulk of the fire-warriors with shrapnel and concussive force. The air-bursting ammunition it used creating havoc, and tearing apart the cubicles, denying any cover the Tau had.

Being in such cramped spaces Irah saw his comrades having trouble with their rather long weapons. Most of them had standard pulse-rifles, as such these were rather unwieldy in such close quarters, shocked he found himself thinking that the gue'la had anticipated this. He sided next to Viro as they formed a firing-line behind their comrades, the last of which were brought down before them.

There wasn't a shouted order, they all simply began to lay down fire against the enemy, combat training kicking in. Unfortunate on their side the gue'la attackers seemed to have spotted them and dove for the ground, hiding themselves behind cubicles and out of sight. Not sure where they might pop up next the fire-line began to saturate the general area with pulse-rounds, hoping to hit something vital.

An almighty thump answered their response, as the grenadier gue'la let an explosive arc from where they hid. Before the firewarriors could trace the shot back to its source the explosive had burst above their heads. Raining shrapnel down upon them. The concussion had knocked them all into disarray, Irah felt the force of it, and was thrown into Viro knocking both of them down.

It was lucky that their armor was so good at dispersing force, and the shrapnel didn't seem to cause significant damage. Irah felt himself be pushed off by Viro, she made to stand as she did so. Catching sight behind her though, Irah quickly grabbed her, and forcefully pull her back down on top of him. In spite of a surprised, and anger expletive that flew from her mouth Viro didn't resist.

Good thing too, las-energy and slugs created a hail over their heads not soon after, the gue'la having switched positions to catch the dazed firewarriors in a crossfire. Thanking the greater-good, Irah had caught a glimpse of movement, and made the assumption, which saved her life

Irah watched stunned as another two of his comrades were not so observant, their bodies riddled with holes as they took fire. Blood and other bits sprayed onto him and Viro as they lay on the floor with the rest of the surviving firewarriors. They struggled to crawl away, down the line of cubicles to new positions to better respond. It was with limited success, Irah and Viro managed to get away five cubicles down and out of the maelstrom. Three of their comrades were able to do the same, though in the opposite direction, and the last two were unfortunately cut down by direct hits from air-bursting grenades.

"What should we do!" He found himself desperately asking Viro. Despite her lapse before Irah felt her the more strategic minded.

Viro looked stunned for a moment, before responding adamantly. "They're not ordinary gue'la warriors, we should make for the exit. Regroup with whoever is surely heading this way toward the weapon-fire."

Irah found himself agreeing with her as they heard the screams. Peaking warily outside of the cubicle they had taken cover in, they witnessed as the gue'la cut down, or beat their last three comrades to death with knives and weapon stocks. Irah found himself trying to suppress his gorge, the mere thought of melee again…

How the gue'la had closed the distance as they did was frightening, he and Viro pulled back into their hiding spot. To get to the rooms exit they'd have no choice but to run into the open, outnumbered as they were, it would be unwise to continue trying to fight such trained adversaries. He and Viro looked at each other, both knew what it was they'd have to do, neither particularly wanted to do it though. Thoughts of being cut down as they tried to run for it filled the young Shas'La's minds.

They could hear the gue'la moving swiftly about, surely trying to find them in the many cubicles. Brief barks of guttural language assaulted their ears as the gue'la either communicated between themselves, or tried goading them into coming out. Either way they didn't understand what was being said. Their helmets had translation software though, Viro silently reminded him as she pointed to her own, adjusting it as she did so.

Irah followed her example, if they could understand what the gue'la were saying, they might have better luck with the situation. It was a moment to adjust, but soon he could understand the low voices he was hearing.

"-telling you there were two more, saw one get pulled down." He heard clearly as the gue'la spoke.

"Then keep sweeping the area Hanne, I'd rather the xenos scum not hit us from behind when we move on," responded another, the footsteps were getting closer to their position as they listened in.

He glanced at Viro and gave a nod, they'd have to be moving now, or they definitely wouldn't have a chance. She nodded back, and despite her helmeted face he could sense her fear, he could feel his own gnawing at his guts. He motioned toward their exit, in case she had forgotten where they were going, and prepared his leg muscles to carry him.

Just before they made their mad dash though, an overly loud explosion was heard across the room. Jolting the both of them, Irah was sure the gue'la had finally decided to just saturate the area with weapon-fire to find them. He felt an even more horrified shiver run down his spine at the sound of 'Waagh,' coming from ork mouths.

"Contact!" One of the gue'la shouted loudly, before a cacophony of their combined weapons began to fire upon the new threat, followed by the loud ork weapons. Glancing to each other again he and Viro overcame their reluctance and came up from their cover, facing the direction of the explosion.

Irah would be thanking the seeming deus ex machina if it weren't for the gaping hole in the wall, and the dozens of greenskinned psychotic murderers storming through. The gue'la were barely holding the tide of orks back.

"Stop gawking and shoot the orks!" Viro yelled at him. It was only then that he noticed her firing her pulse-rifle, actually helping the gue'la, who turned out to be not one cubicle away from them. The Imperials seemed to pay them no mind as they focused on the greater threat posed by the orks. Realizing that the orks would probably kill him before the gue'la did he lent his efforts to the fight.

The hap-dash firing-line of human and tau worked together to keep the green tide back. Despite the all around danger Irah still found himself more concerned with the gue'la. These were beings that had just moments ago been slaughtering his comrades, now he was fighting alongside them.

"Sergeant! The damn Tau!" One of the gue'la yelled, clear even over the weapon-fire and ork battle cries.

"Bigger problems now! Far as I can see they're helping with those!" Came the reply from what Irah had to assume was the gue'la commander.

Brightened that they might not be getting shot by the gue'la so soon, Irah continued to lend his efforts to the killing of orks. Who were still coming in droves as they tried to flood through the large hole in the wall they had made. Soon the greenskins began to be pushed back, as more weapons-fire joined the fray. At first Irah was elated, the rest of the cadre must have made their way to them!

That elation dimmed though when he noticed, the projectiles killing the orks were not familiar in the least. They weren't gue'la, and they weren't Tau, he could barely catch sight of them. But he swore they looked something like flying discs, or stars…

Wherever these new projectiles were they seemed to easily cut through the tough hide of the orks. Taking limbs, and going through makeshift armor and green muscle, as though it wasn't even there. Irah would say these weapons—whatever they were—even gave Tau pulse weapons, and railguns a run for their money. If the gue'la noticed they didn't make any comment out loud on it.

After another minute of intense combat the orks seemed to subside, those still left actually retreating for the moment. Irah breathed a sigh of relief before he heard the new shouting.

"Xenos on our tail!" one of the gue'la yelled. Irah thought he meant him and Viro, but as he turned he caught sight of the gue'la being swiftly put down in close quarter melee, by figures he could hardly make out. Their movements were so fluid he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He watched as the gue'la were taken down almost effortlessly, their weapons either seized, or knocked from their grips as the new attackers did their work. Irah noticed that whoever they were, they were careful not to kill the gue'la, just subdue and disarm. It was then he felt Viro nudge his shoulder to get his attention.

"Ahem, Irah. Put your pulse-rifle down slowly." She spoke it loudly and clearly to him. He was bewildered for a moment before looking where Viro was focused on. So intent he was in watching the gue'la get taken down that he hadn't noticed the new attackers sneak up on him and Viro.

Irah found himself staring at lithe figures, their proportions and features like that of thin, tall gue'la. Though despite the superficial resemblance Irah could tell that whatever these new beings were, they were most clearly not gue'la. Strange weapons aimed at him, the same ones whose projectiles he saw tear through orks with ease, Irah did as Viro said. Slowly lowering his pulse-rifle to the ground and sliding it equally as slowly a foot or so in front of him.

One of the tall aliens smoothly grabbed the weapon, stowing it at his side via some sort of magnetic retention. He noted the pointed ears, knowledge coming to him unbidden from the recesses of his brain. If he remembered right, these were Eldar, rarely encountered, and only ever briefly touched upon during his training.

"That'll be an interesting trophy," the alien's comrade spoke idly. Irah wondered why he could understand, and then he realized these Eldar must be speaking the gue'la language. Strange, certainly strange, for it didn't seem they were on the gue'la's side, besides it was common knowledge the gue'la of the Imperium didn't ally with other races.

"It seems we won't have much time. That ork attack was a bit earlier than I divined," Came a voice drawing Irah's gaze over to another lithe figure making its way among the group of Eldar fighters. He could tell this one must be the leader, she was dressed differently from the others, short surcoat over elegant looking armor. Whereas the others wore hooded cloaks and such over their own more hapdash looking protection.

He and Viro were made to walk along, over to join the gue'la before the apparent leader. Irah found himself standing next to a rather disgruntled looking female gue'la. She snarled at him when he glanced her way, he vaguely recognized her as the one who had been using the grenade launcher. He turned his gaze back to the new alien leader.

As the softening sounds of battle raged outside, and the alien leader fixed them all with her gaze, Irah felt his stomach being gnawed at by his anxiety. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't going to be good...

* * *

 **A/N: Well I gotta say I'm enjoying writing this so far. Think it'll head in an interesting direction, not gonna lie I'm taking it a bit out there, as far as fluff characterization will be concerned. But, I feel I can get this to be logical, so bear with me, I have a request to fulfill after all.**

 **shout-outs!**

 **Disciple of Ember- Glad you like the characterization so far. I tried really hard to be honest, getting into these characters heads. As for Taerosa, well I hope it's not bad of me to say that I'm glad you picked up on that. That expressive personality is exactly what I was going for, insofar as that works fluffwise... well I'm hoping once all the details of her past are revealed it'll seem more appropriate. Taerosa as mentioned wasn't taken seriously for a reason. Also really glad you liked (well, you know what I mean) the archon, he's going to be interesting to continue writing. Hoping I didn't make his introduction too graphic, but he's dark elder. Nuff said... Thanks for your review!**

 **BIBOTOT- There will be reason! (said with great godly force, and in pure humor my friend) In regards to the faction's reasons. There certainly is something worth fighting over on Princips. And I certainly feel your concerns regarding the perspective changes. I actually took this story request because of the strangeness it kind of introduces. A recurring thing for me after 'Our Masks,' don't know why, but I enjoy trying to make these sorts of convoluted things work out. But I can certainly see where you're coming from, and I say that this chapter will hopefully make things better, fewer povs. The characters will all be converging soon too, so that'll make this whole thing more centralized as the chapters go on. As for your deductions based on the characters... I'd like to leave you guessing on that. I hope you'll be pleasantly surprise where I go with them all. Finally... thank you! For pointing out my terminology mistake with gue'la vs gue'vesa. It has been corrected. Please let me know if I've made others in this chapter, specifically concerning Irah's use of 'Eldar' I honestly couldn't find what the Tau call Eldar in their language in any fluff sources. So the help is certainly appreciated.**

 **That Taco Guy- Thank you for the review. I hope the concept will continue to be interesting, I feel I may be heading into territory that some may not like soon. But, I'm striving to make it believable, I think I can get the proper balance for where this is going. Can't wait to hear you're opinion on it once thing really get rolling.**

 **Well that's all for now folks, again thank you to one Mr. War for requesting this story, without them this would not be. And thank you all for the reviews/favs/alerts, they are very appreciated.**

 **300-709**


	3. Lurking Shadows

_**"Never mistake motion for action,"- Ernest Hemingway**_

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol_Briem

Taerosa Denvara_Farseer

They had been dropped off easily enough. Taerosa had been surprised at how maneuverable, and downright stealthy, Caltar had managed to make the Imperial ship with his skill. He'd dropped her Lomon, and the other seven rangers off readily, and then he was off again into the heavens. He was set to shadow their position from the skies, and perhaps orbit, in case of need for quick retrieval.

Ghosting through the Imperial city of Briem was easy. Between her precognition, and the rangers general knack for low-key operation, they'd been able to sneak by the patrols of all comers. She'd gotten to know the names of her companions more thoroughly. After all she'd be working with them for quite the duration, and she couldn't very well refer to all of them as 'Ranger,' when she needed a certain one's attention.

Of course there was Lomon, unofficial leader. Baharryss, catcall boy, rather young and too full of himself, he was the one with the ghost-axe. Kayakas and Asherosa were their overwatch with their long-rifles, each of them were impeccable shots. Asherosa was quite excitable, though mercifully tempered by Kayakas and his more even, stable temperament. In fact, out of them all Kayakas seemed to be the most proper, in terms of his restraint that is.

Telsho was currently performing reconnaissance, not that Taerosa felt it necessary with her sight, but Lomon seemed to be a traditionalist. He felt having actual eyes on your surroundings made a difference. Despite her misgivings on such logic, Taerosa could not deny that Telsho was incredibly good, if the other rangers were ghosts, then Telsho was simply non-existent in her stealth.

Orelimo was perhaps the best swordswoman Taerosa had ever seen, it was almost a shame she had only a chainsword to work with. The loud, inelegant weapon didn't do her justice, if Taerosa were to be honest. Argliem was their heavy-weapon support, with the deathspinner, and shrieker-cannon, she was apt to believe it. The later of his two weapons almost made her spine tingle, she'd only heard stories of its frightening capabilities. Last was Fuenel, armed with a simple shuriken-catapalt, she still had no doubt that he was very capable, a strong spirit to be sure.

"Any idea where exactly we're going yet Farseer? Been waiting here for a bit," Baharryss was spinning his axe idly. Taerosa bit back the retort rising from her vocal cords.

"Let the farseer concentrate moron!" Asherosa spat out from her place by a window. Taerosa liked her despite her excitable nature, she knew proper respect at least, and perhaps their similar names helped.

Currently taking refuge in a rundown Imperial habitation structure they were waiting. For her to divine their next move, and for Telsho to come back with information on the greater surrounding area. Taerosa calmed herself, shutting out all of the small annoyances. Such as Lomon's constant chewing of gum, Baharryss and his unnecessary axe-twirls, or even Argliem's nervous tapping. It took some concentration, but she reached that perfect serenity to finally do the deed.

Her mind flew, indescribable colors, sensations, and sounds flowed about her. The trails of possible futures. She had but to find the right one. It wasn't long, she found the best route, connected to the horrible cataclysm she was hoping to prevent. Latching onto the skein, she navigated it, looking for the way to her objective. The three distinct personalities she'd glimpsed, when she been hit by her vision on the ship, seemed to reveal themselves again.

Converging on a single location, they were going to all be in one place soon, she'd have to be there to meet them. Whoever, whatever they were, she was sure they would be vital in her success. Telsho would bring news of exactly where too… seemed Lomon was correct about tradition.

So the path was set. Her eyes snapped open, her runes recalled themselves out of habit to her person.

"I know where we must go." Her statement was met with unanimous stares. "Telsho, if you would inform everyone of what you saw."

She could sense said ranger's unease at being found, right before she seemed to appear from thin air before everyone from above. Telsho quickly got over it though.

"Tau, not half a klick to our immediate west, held up in a monkeigh office. There's a lot of orks all around though… and a squad of monkeigh soldiers heading their way. I think it would be smart to avoid that fight." The ranger spoke clearly, but a bit on the soft side. With their preternatural hearing though everyone heard what she had to say.

"Unfortunate, because that is where we have to be going. Prioritize the survival of the monkeigh, and tau that I say to, we'll be needing certain one's alive if we're to be successful in our mission." Taerosa spoke, sure of herself, though she could see the looks in everyone's eyes.

"Aren't we supposed to be saving Eldar lives here?" Baharryss was predictably first to voice his displeasure.

"Yeah, what's the issue if a few monkeigh, tau, and orks die. Not like the galaxy will be poorer for it." Argliem replied in a surly voice.

Taerosa again found herself bristling at their open disrespect. _"Rangers..."_ the aggravated thought swam to the forefront of her mind. It wasn't so much their thoughts on the matter, as it was their open disagreement, and… independent nature.

"I assure you all that if you want to save Eldar lives, that you should trust me." She replied evenly to the doubters. They all looked ready again to contradict her, but then Lomon whistled, stopping several in their tracks to voice their opinions about their 'trust,' in her.

"Now, now, if the Farseer says this is what we need to do." Lomon shrugged, as if to voice his own doubt. "Then, we'll just have to protect some of the lesser races for once. Don't forget, she did only say certain one's, we'll have plenty of leeway, isn't that right Farseer?"

"Correct, but we must hurry, the orks will be attacking soon. If we leave now we should make it just before they hit the building." Taerosa held her serious countenance and poise, silently thankful to the ranger leaders for his intervention. She'd not yet gain everyone's trust, but after a little more work she felt they'd come around to her. For now, she'd have to rely on Lomon's command of the group.

"Right, so Telsho, darling. Why not get us into that office!" He clapped his hands together. "Time for the real fun to start, eh."

The rangers nodded their assents, gathering themselves gracefully. Telsho led them out through a window, opening out to a back-alley. Height was not an issue for the rangers, they easily navigated the sparse hand holds, and emergency walkways the monkeigh built into their structures. Taerosa found herself able to keep up with them just fine. But, she had to admit that their skillful acrobatic flair surpassed her more reserved movements.

Descending to street level, Telsho began to take them along side-streets, and yet more alleys. Passing by the fumbling patrols of ork mobs as they went. About halfway to their destination they started to hear the unmistakable chatter of weapons, the symphony of battle. Followed by the barbaric surging warcry of the greenskins. Taerosa felt the skeins stirring at the event. It was happening earlier than her vision before had led her to believe.

"We must hurry," she voiced to the others. There was a quiet acknowledgment of her concern, and the pace picked up significantly. Telsho led them through every short cut she had no doubt scouted. It was quite a bit of fluid acrobatic work, but soon their destination was in sight. A small number of orks were assaulting the Imperial office, tau defenders keeping them at bay for the moment. But there would soon be more orks, too many for the defenders to repel, especially with the Imperials causing havoc in their ranks.

They went through a soft spot in the ork mobs, also a blindspot in the tau defense. What few greenskins that caught on to them were put down, shurikens cutting through them courtesy of Telsho and Fuenel. The others conserved their ammunition. Getting into the building Taerosa took the lead from Telsho.

"I know where they'll be, just make sure who I say needs to live does." She put all the authority she could into her voice, not that it would matter with this lot. She followed the thread connected to the weary resolve of the first soul she'd glimpsed in her vision. It led past quite the amount of tau bodies, she'd give the Imperials credit, whoever they were, they knew how to kill. Still sloppy by Eldar standards of the art of war, but pragmatic.

Closing in she sensed the naivete of her second suspect. The two were directly clashing at the moment, not good, she couldn't have the half-wits kill each other! They both needed to be alive for the best possible end scenario. She picked up the pace, the rangers grumbling behind her as she did, but that didn't matter, they didn't have much time. Plus there was something else, the gestalt warp presence of the orks was getting awfully close, their barbaric glee almost upon the two souls she needed.

They heard the sounds of Imperial and tau weapons, the noise reverberated through the halls as they approached. Then a great blast, as the orks finally breached the wall, right where the concerned parties were by Taerosa's reckoning. Emerging into an open office area, dotted with destroyed cubicles, and equipment from the previous battle, Taerosa watched as the remaining Tau and Imperials were joined together in brief cooperation against the tide of orks.

Greenskins threatening to overwhelm and kill them Taerosa made a motion. The Rangers understood immediately, the complex intricacies of the Eldar language helping them communicate via gesture alone. They opened up on the orks, their weaponfire accurate and devastating to the green tide, the added bonus of the Tau and Imperial weapons certainly helping. If the tau and monkeigh noticed them then they ignored them in favor of killing the shared threat. Soon enough the orks were beaten back.

"Xenos on our tail!" One of the monkeigh yelled out.

Taerosa bristled slightly at the derogative term spat by the Imperial. She watched with slight delight as the rangers went about disarming the rapidly responding monkeigh. To give credit where it was due the monkeigh fought back admirably, despite their slow sluggish nature. But, the rangers had already been too close, and thus had them cold before any of the Imperials could fire a shot. Looking over to the Tau, she noticed that they hadn't even bothered to put up a fight, simply handing over their weapons in surrender.

Though one did have to let the other, who was gawking at the rangers taking down the monkeigh, know to hand over his weapon. Soon enough they were all disarmed and safe from killing each other. Which was a great relief for Taerosa.

"That'll be an interesting trophy," she heard Asherosa comment, turning to see Kayakas stowing one of the tau rifles at his side. She had half a mind to tell them no trophies, but thought better of the futile effort.

"It seems we won't have much time. That ork attack was a bit earlier than I divined," she spoke instead, bringing attention back to herself. She walked through the others to stand before the two Tau, making another gesture she told them to bring the prisoners together. The rangers did so admirably, their professionalism finally shining through on the battlefield. One of the monkeigh snarled at the tau as they were brought close to them.

Taerosa found herself slightly bemused at the woman's behavior. But, she instead took a breath and prepared herself for what she'd be saying next, she'd have to convince these aliens to help them. At least the two that were part of the divination, though if she could get the rest, well the more she had on her side, the better. She sized up each individual, the monkeigh all with either open contempt, or blank faced defiance on their features.

She could sense further stirrings in the skeins, tremendous in nature, affecting them all. But this next part would have to work, she'd have to convince the Imperials and Tau of her mission's importance, to them, and for her people.

"I'm going to keep this simple. The reason you're all still alive is because we need your help." She spoke intoning all the importance she could into her words.

"Why should we help you xenos, your kind have always had twisted tongues in the past. Never been trustworthy." A female monkeigh spoke, her tone even. Not accusatory as most of her species would be, but certainly with past experience lacing her words. This was the weary soul she'd glimpsed in her vision, the one she'd truly have to convince.

"It is true our races have had bad dealings with each other in the past. Both sides sharing fault on separate occasions, but you should at least know that we are trying to save this world. For our home to survive your world cannot perish," she rebuked.

"That's not much to go on, could all be an elaborate lie, meant to get us helping you against our cause. Your machinations are plans within plans, too convoluted to follow, and all ending to benefit you and only you. I've seen the destruction your kind can reap with your goals." The woman spoke again, her tone bitter, Taerosa could practically sense her past tragedies.

"Well, I can't say you're wrong, but then again your kind has equal blame for quite a bit of destruction wrought in the galaxy. We could go back and forth all day," she paused, taking a breath pointedly. "But, know that we are transparent in our goal, the saving of this planet. A great cataclysm looms, the how I cannot say for sure, but it will reveal itself very soon. The archenemy, to your kind and my own, chaos. If you lend me your help, we may be able to beat it back, saving this world, and many others."

The monkeigh remained unyielding, her continence one of supreme resolve. Taerosa knew it would be hard to get through to her, their races had too much history, too much blood between them. Plus their little Imperial cult hardly helped matters.

"Give them back their weapons," she stated flatly, immediately she felt the rangers all tense. Their emotions running rampant with surprise, aggravation, and bewilderment.

"If you're sure Farseer..." Lomon's tone was reluctant, but as Taerosa was beginning to notice, despite his flippant nature toward her, he did seem to have faith in her.

"You're kidding right Lomon, I mean really? These monkeigh would just as soon kill you as look at you, and then piss on your corpse and burn it for good measure!" Baharryss of course voiced protest, but a sharp look from the lead ranger quickly silenced him. He relented with a scowl. "Fine, but I'm blaming you the moment they shoot me in the arse."

"Better keep them trained in your sights then," Lomon said as he handed the lead monkeigh her weapons. The other rangers followed suit, even the tau were given their pulse-rifles. The rangers still had them all locked in their sights though. And Taerosa could sense that all the monkeigh were smart enough to recognize that Eldar reflexes were faster than their own, and the tau simply wanted to stay living.

"Now that you all feel more comfortable, perhaps you'd be willing to consider..." Taerosa trailed off though, a vision hitting her like a freight train, something wicked this way comes...

Before she could say anything Fuenel started convulsing, right before screams of the most horrific pitch began to emanate from his lungs. He fell to the ground, his shuriken-launcher clattering with him, as he went into fits, mouth starting to froth. Taerosa had seen that kind of reaction before, their dark kin, depraved beings, possibly worse than any other ilk of the galaxy. Fuenel had been hit by a splinter-rifle's payload, its toxins going about their work to paralyze him, and cause terrible pain.

Everyone jumped into action in a microsecond. The Imperials had hunkered down in their cubicle, taking the scant cover they could. The Tau likewise did the same, and the rangers all as well. Telsho dragged the still living, if in great pain Fuenel to cover with her as she went. Taerosa stood defiant to the attackers, she was already getting precognitive divinations on how things would play out, but she'd need to buy time to turn things to her favor.

"Well, I'm surprised a Farseer didn't see this coming," the apparent leader appeared from the hole in the wall created by the orks, flanked by several of his underlings. Taerosa could practically feel the perverse satisfaction dripping from his words. "Then again, I always had thought your kind a bit too… overconfident. I'm Archon Arhvyn Fahrvan by the way, soon to be your new owner." He bowed in mock graciousness.

She took in his retinue, two kabalite warriors, wielding splinter weapons, one had a proper rifle, the other a carbine, along with a wicked looking sword at his hip. A Haemonculi, scissorhand clicking impatiently, a wrack at her right, and a grotesque to her left. A wych was to the leaders immediate left, she was idly twirling her razorflails, a cruel smile adorning her features. She could also sense, but not see, or hear, two ghastly wraithlike figures fluttering about in the shadows. Finally, there were the dozen or so other kabalite warriors at the Archon and his retinues backs, all ready to lay fire into her, and everyone around her.

"I could say the same of Dark Eldar Archons, your ilk rarely doesn't bite off more than they can chew in your petty pursuits for power and position." She returned with a dour look on her face.

"Yes, well I'm sure you'll think differently of us, once you're in Commorragh. I promise your visit will be quite eventful. I'll even let your companions come with you, I'm sure there will be many who would gladly take them into their homes." He chuckled darkly at his own sick joke. All knew what it was to become a Dark Eldar slave, nothing but pain, humiliation, and horrific death awaited.

Taerosa could feel the surge of feral intent now, just what she was waiting for. "Overconfident, and quite dense as well," she called out, an uncommon smirk playing at her lips.

The Archon arched his brow, mouth open to say something. When the orks seemed to come from everywhere at once, only deigning to bellow their customary 'Waagh!' as they were within swinging distance to everyone.

Now everyone really exploded into action, the ork kommandos shocked the kabalite warriors. Despite their exquisite reflexes, and combat experience, the attack caught them off guard. The orks within melee range began to do what they did best, brawl, scrap, and chop their way through. Taerosa, smiled as the Archon threw her a murderous look, right before she used her gifts to throw a psychic shockwave at him and his retinue, knocking them all back.

As the orks outside took on the kabalite warriors, orks inside made their presence known attacking her and her own group. The rangers returned fire immediately, to her surprise the monkeigh, and tau took up positions alongside them adding to their fusillade. She saw Telsho seem to disappear, going off to deal with one of the shadowy presences she'd felt lurking earlier. Turning to the battle at hand, she unsheathed her wavy witchblade, cutting down an ork that got past the combined fireline.

She saw Baharryss making use of his ghost-axe, twirling it as though it were nothing, and letting it swing with unerring confidence. The weapon's spiritstone guided his blows to cleave heads from shoulders, and legs from torsos with elegant accuracy. Keeping her eyes about she watched the monkeigh doing a commendable job coordinating their firing lines, catching foes in their deadly crossfire. Their tau compatriots likewise lent their accurate shots to the fray, taking out any orks, and even some kabalite warriors at a distance, before they became an immediate problem.

Finally getting over the surprise of the orks, the Kabalite warriors were rallied by Archon Arhvyn, and began to carve their way through the green crowd toward them. Luckily the monkeigh were providing adequate defense against encroaching orks on their own, leaving the rangers leeway to engage the more deadly foe.

Argleim fired off a few shots of his death-spinner, raining deadly monofilament webs down on the kabalites advancing. A few were minced, but the majority of them were able to return fire, forcing them either into cover, or dodging paralyzing splinters. Baharryss broke off with Lomon at his heels, the lead ranger firing shuriken-pistols akimbo to suppress their foes, allowing his ghost-axe wielding friend to close distance. Baharryss wasted no time chopping his opponents to bits, a blur even among his faster dark cousins.

Taerosa threw up a psychic barrier to deflect some splinter-shards from hitting her human allies. Who for their part, did not let the reflecting distraction of the psychic distortion detract from their accuracy. Their combined fire actually swept toward the kabalites, most of the shots were dodged by the preternaturally fast warriors, by one did get winged good. As he stumbled the Imperials converged fire on him, years of fighting together creating amazing coordination. Under the deluge of weapon-fire the kabalite was torn asunder.

The fight was starting to turn in their favor, between them, and the remaining orks, the Archon and his forces were beginning to be pushed back, either that or face annihilation. Even as Taerosa watch the varied main retinue tear all comers their way to bits. She knew the Archon would not press this gamble too far, her dark cousins may have been prone to delusions of grandeur, but they were also very pragmatic when push came to shove.

A horrifying shriek seemed to answer her question, tinted with pain it seemed to tip off the Archon of something very amiss.

"Retreat!" He bellowed, him and his retinue, along with the remaining kabalite warriors all made a hasty dash. Out through the hole they went, skimmer craft waiting to whisk them off. Taerosa felt both relief and fright, for one thing she now knew what the second dark presence was. And it had retreated, but the skeins had foretold of it hounding her throughout her quest. This would not be her last conflict with the Archon.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Watgrad Wilddaggha_Ork Nob

Watgrad was pleased with himself as he lopped off the head of another tall dark armored being. His little ambush had gone very well, his boyz right and sneaky, up till the proppa moment. Now they all got to be in the thick of it. He laughed as he locked blades with another tall dark pointy ears, it sneered at him as it tried to reverse the bind. Watgrad slapped the git about his face for his trouble. He could be slippery all he wanted, Wilddaggah fought tricky, and to win.

He disemboweled the pointy eared git right proppa. Chopping his head off for good measure after the fact, it was then that Watgrad noticed something off...

There was some sorta shadowy git, darting about, flaying all his boyz. Now Watgrad could appreciate some right good stealthy cunnin' like that, but nobody but him got to whack about his boyz! He instantly dug into himself, pulling up all his orky kommando cunnin'. Then he set about his work, the shadowy git was good, he was working his way toward Watgrad gradually. Thought old Wilddaggah didn't notice him, but Watgrad did, even so he continued to play dumb.

Delighting himself with smashing in the faces of the more straightforward pointy ears. He was in another one on one, with one of them, when the shadow git made his move. Watgrad saw him coming, diving out of the way at the last possible moment, and landing in a crash a ways to the left, body checking another pointy ear as he went. He looked back to see his previous opponent had been skewered, the gaping hole left in his body the only indication anything had happened, he convulsed a few times, before dropping to the ground cold dead.

The shadowy git had slipped past between the time Watgrad had dodged, and he had killed his fellow pointy ear. Watgrad smiled a toothy smile, the git was good, he'd almost gotten him. He bellowed out a laugh at the sight of the dead pointy ear killed by shadow. He then remembered the git he'd checked into, turning he found some sort of weird shoota leveled at his head. The pointy ear behind it sneered at him, he grinned right back, before one of his boyz plowed into the pointy ear from his side, tossing the two through some hummie cubicles and out of sight.

By Mork did Watgrad love his boyz, even if he did crack 'em in the head half the time. He felt shadow coming to him, his orky senses tingling, he turned and raised his choppa up, just in time to bind blades with shadow. Shadow git snarled at him, all pointy teeth, and sharp features, bedecked in a cloak made of various sentient species flayed skins.

"Now tha's the righ' way ta face me ya git!" Watgrad's cheerful remark seemed to confuse shadow for a moment, right before his huge green fist smashed into the side of shadow's face, knocking out a few pointy teeth with it. And sending shadow evaporating back from whence it came. Leaving the big nob looking around in wonder.

"Now tha's a righ' good trick! You should teach Watgrad tha," he spoke with awe. Watgrad could appreciate a good trick when he saw one, and the shadowy pointy ear definitely had a good one up his sleeve.

"What's this? A daft creature such as yourself wanting to learn my skills? I think not dull one." A voice taunted just from Watgrad's rear. He narrowed his eyes swinging in a one-eighty degree arc behind him. He felt the flutter of shadow slipping under his blade, and away from him, tittering as he did so.

"Why not tell old Wilddaggha!" Watgrad bellowed with barely restrained anger.

"It could not be taught to such a simplistic mind, fungus such as yourself should stick to the mud and dirt." Shadow's voice yet again spoke, this time from Watgrad's left. He thrust his choppa in that direction, but the figure danced away, disappearing before the blow could land. Another laugh was heard, this time seeming to come from all around Watgrad, he kept his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"What your name shadow? Watgrad want ta know the git he's gonna pummel," the nob bellowed out, his orky mind working out how the shadow had attacked him so far. Always just out of sight, he could feel the flutter of its flesh cloak, each time before it moved to go away.

"Well, I suppose since you did actually evade me so far… and land a blow," it said this in obvious anger at having to admit such. "I suppose the least I could do, is let you know who will kill you. I am Grasque, Mandrake in the employ of Archon Fahrvan." Grasque tittered as he crept about his prey, the dull nob was easy pickings, as far as he was concerned.

"I will be yo-glurghh!" Watgrad's hand had shot out faster than Grasque had ever seen an ork move. It was pure speed, inelegant, but strong and powerfully quick. The nob had him gripped about his throat, arm extended behind him, right where Grasque was about to stab him in his back. Unable to comprehend the turn of events, he barely felt the whiplash of being whipped around, to face the tusked face of his opponent.

The ork cleaved his sword arm off before he could bring his blade about to try and skewer the sentient fungus. Watgrad laughed, his crooked smile filling up Grasque's vision.

"Tha old back stab, oldest trick in tha book, disappointin Gras-what's-it." The nob seemed to shrug, before the grin returned. "Ah well, another git fer old Watgrad ta chop!"

 _"_ _Killed by fungus..."_ was the last thought to go through Grasque's mind, right before Watgrad's choppa.

Skull split, and choppa buried deep, Watgrad felt the man-what's-it go limp in his grasp. He pulled his choppa free, looking around at the scrap. He could see his boyz had taken a thrashing, but the dark pointy ears were starting to turn and run. His boyz gave chase, turning another direction he saw another group of pointy ears, hummies, and even some blu's. There were a lot of his boyz piled up dead around them, plus a good amount of the dark pointy ears.

His mind went into overdrive as he heard a pained, and loud shriek from somewhere to his rear. Turning he caught sight of another shadow, dressed similar to the dead one he held in his hand. It threw him a death glare, its pointed teeth showing as it snarled at him. Watgrad couldn't help but grin right back, letting the limp body drop in a clattering heap at his feet. Raising his hand he made the 'come get some,' gesture. The second shadow seemed ready to do it too, before a shout from what seemed to be the lead dark pointy ear stopped it in its tracks.

Eyes narrowed at Watgrad he watched as it simply melted into the shadows out of view. He felt his grin slip, now that was too bad, he'd wanted a second scrap. The first shadow git had been a right proppa one, the nob was disappointed. With the dark pointy ears running away, and the hummies working with the blu's, and pointy ears, Watgrad decided that enough was enough for this scrap. His boyz too seemed to have realized this, and started doing the sensible thing, running away ta scrap again another day.

The nob was of the same opinion, though some sort of sweet whispering in his thoughts was fixing him in place. Watgrad found himself starting to get a little fuzzy headed, kind of like when he drank too much.

"Now tha's just un-orky..." he managed to mumble incoherently, and then he passed out.

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Arhvyn Fahrvan_Archon_Forgotten Mercy Kabal

He was furious, that damn farseer, how could he have let her pull the wool over his eyes. Damn Bhizysh, the haemonculi had assured him her counter measures would work! He should have known better, his father, rest his soul, had always told him to be prepared for any eventuality. Right before Arhvyn had stabbed him through the throat, and seized the Kabal from him, earlier than his old man had anticipated.

Now, as he swept his klaive through two more of the primitive greenskins, he was calculating. The farseer had set herself up nicely, her help was all within very adequate cover, defended from his Kabal's weapons. Meanwhile the damn orks simply had his forces by surprise. He should have had his men simply open fire. But, and he kicked himself for this, he really did… he just had to gloat. Father had always said his need to orate would be the end of him.

Watching his forces he thought the situation still possibly salvageable, despite her miscalculation Bhizysh and her… creations were holding their own well, simply carving through the orks. The wrack, Aesnarah, he believes she calls it, was especially effective. With its four arms, ending in a medley of sharp, pointy implements slicing through attackers with ease. Her grotesque likewise was murderously taking down opponents. Its obscene gorilla-like mass crushing and smashing anything in its way.

The two mandrakes he'd managed to get into the kabal too were proving their worth. Grasque and Aesreaq, the two had come at an exorbitant fee, though the way the two deadly lovers flayed, carved, and sliced their unwitting victims was art in itself, truly a pleasure to witness. Meanwhile, Fihrriza, her razorflails twirling and arcing out unpredictably was a maelstrom of death and mayhem.

Lakuzon and Murivor were pulling their weight too, though a bit too conservatively for Arhvyn's tastes, he might have to have a word with them afterward. Laying fire into the horde, as well as rallying the warriors to assault the farseer though, they were at the very least doing their job as defacto field commanders for his raiders.

Making the necessary motions he called a group of his warriors to him, to form a shield of armor and weapons around him. Better able to survey the battlefield with his added protection he watched on as the Farseer's rangers started to make their move. Breaking off as individuals or clusters to push back the onslaught of his warriors. Their damn monkeigh and tau allies kept the orks mostly off them in the process.

He noticed one break off completely, a female with a single shuriken-launcher, though the way she seemed to simply disappear in pursuit of one of his mandrakes spoke volumes of her ability. It was not a good omen, especially if she could best one of his more expensive warriors, he'd have to keep an eye and ear out.

Raucous ork laughter drew his attention back to the orks fighting in the melee. There he beheld a behemoth, hacking and chopping away merrily at his warriors, as though their superior reflexes meant hell all. The brute suddenly jumped to his left, crashing into one of his less aware warriors, the kabalite he was fighting had a hole through him, convulsing as he dropped dead. Arhvyn could hardly believe what he saw, by mere luck, or even more horrifying to think about, by talent the dull creature had dodged one of his mandrake's attacks.

He watched with little satisfaction as the brute turned to be faced with the kabalite warriors gun. Only for his warrior to be dog-piled by yet another ork from the side. Only to quickly turn and bind his oversized hunk of scrap-metal with none other than Grasque, who Arhvyn noted looked as surprised as he himself felt at the turn of events. He watched the mandrake bare his teeth, only for the ork to bellow out something, followed by laughter, and a big green fist crashing into the mandrakes face.

He missed the next few moments of the fight, occupied as he was with the encroaching orks, who had somehow gotten through his warriors to him… he'd have to make examples later. His klaive swung, each graceful arc, and feint doing its job, and putting an end to another barbaric life. When he turned back, expecting to see Grasque victorious, and a dead nob on the ground, he instead found something he'd rather not have seen.

Held by his throat, blade arm missing, Grasque had a stupefied look on his normally terrifying visage. The ork grinning, split the mandrakes skull, the once fearsome creature going limp in his powerful hold. Pulling his weapon free, and letting Grasque's body hit the floor, the nob turned to survey the battle, same as Arhvyn. Turning his attention away from the unexpected scene, the Archon watched as his forces began to buckle, he'd lost many warriors, and a mandrake.

His subordinates were starting to retreat of their own volition, even the harsh punishments they may face later did not override their desire for life in the moment. Arhvyn found himself agreeing with his servants assessment, it was certainly time to retreat, for the moment. The frightful, pained shriek of mourning from Aesreaq sealed the thought.

"Retreat!" He yelled loud as he could, projectors in his armor helping to relay the message clearly. He had turned just in time to make sure the surviving female mandrake heeded his command. She seemed to only take a moment to narrow her eyes at the giant nob, before seeming to melt into the shadows to retreat with him and the rest of the kabalites he'd brought.

Making quick work of the distance between him and the skimmer they'd brought for transport, the Archon jumped, landing gracefully on its deck. The rest of his surviving servants not far behind, or already on board. Slipping away as quick as the pilot could take them, they traveled quickly to their rally point, a temporary base of sorts for planetside raids.

Even traveling through the wartorn monkeigh city, any fighting forces they came across paid them little mind. The sleek, quiet, and fast skimmer hardly something to notice compared to the life and death ballets the fighters participated in against each other. Whether they were orks, monkeigh, or tau. Arhvyn was stewing in his own thoughts, and future machinations. He'd have to reassert his control, especially after such a defeat, and then convince his subordinates to follow him out again.

Aesreaq should be simple, she wanted vengeance, he could manipulate her in that way, provided he was careful. Lakuzon and Murivor would be simple too, despite their secret scheming behind his back—secret only insofar as they thought—neither had the gumption to defy him outright. He mused that Fihrriza should be simple too, all she wanted to do was fight, no political, or martial gain could be had if she decided to betray, or desert him.

Bhizysh was another story though… the haemonculi was fickle, only following him because of the steady supply of 'subjects,' he allowed her to have. He'd need her twisted little experiments too, they'd be vital in any future attacks he'd make against the Farseer, that was apparent now. He'd thought he was being cautious, bringing as many kabalite warriors as he had, as well as the best among his Kabal.

He should have brought more, and even more fierce war machines.

Ah! Now there was a thought, he looked to two rather random kabalite warriors, they'd do just fine. A way to get Bhizysh to continue her services, as well as grant him a better force for when he next faced the Farseer. Giving a haemonculi subjects to put into their engines of pain always seemed to work wonders.

"Well, that was quite unfortunate, they certainly put up a good fight though, it'd be interesting to battle that ork, the one who killed Grasque." Fihrriza commented as she sidled up to him. Her wych suit did not help the Archon maintain focus, he'd have to get his mind off it with one of his slaves…

"That foul savage is mine to kill Wych! If your razorflails skim even a lick of its flesh, I will personally skin you before I do the same to it," Aesreaq seethed as she appeared at his other side. Fihrriza merely smiled wickedly in response, her innate competitive nature being fueled, the mandrakes ultimatum was merely a challenge to her. Arhvyn thought this fortunate, pit the two against each other, making sure they don't kill each other of course. But, it would keep them invested in the raid.

"Archon, perhaps it would be best to call this a bust, head back to the ship. Look for better prospects, after all this planet is filled with tau, and the demand for them is up back in Commorragh." Lakuzon suggested tactfully. He was the brains behind the duo, and Arhvyn would be partial to agree with him, had the ultimate payoff for capturing the Farseer not been so exorbitant. Plus the personal interest he now had invested in her capture did not help his disposition.

"Lakuzon, tell me which of my warriors underperformed in the battle? Obviously I'm speaking of those still among the living, narrow it down to two if you would," the Archon didn't even bother addressing his servant's suggestion. It was a subtle way to tell his scheming minion that his machinations held no merit, and were not for the best of the Kabal, keeping him in his place. Lakuzon was lucky he was so competent, otherwise he'd have been one of Bhizysh's experiments by now.

His servant looked pensive for but a mere microsecond, before he resolved his answer. "Irustra! Murchvor! Your Archon wishes to address you," his voice was commanding, the two kabalite warriors coming forward from the crowd on the skimmers deck quickly. Standing to attention before their Archon, bowing in defference before they finally stilled.

"Congratulations!" Arhvyn said with cheer, the two shared a disconcerted look. "You've both earned the opportunity to further your Kabal, in roles more befitting of your skill. Bhizysh shall fit you within your new armor, Haemonculi if you'd be so kind."

Their looks of horror were almost visible through their helmets to the Archon. Bhizysh's own cruel smile in direct contrast, quick as ever on the uptake she seemed to slide forward, just behind the unfortunate kabalites, and inject them both with some paralytic cocktail. As the scene played out his remaining warriors watched on, all with malicious glee at the prospect of pain caused to others, but also mentally taking in the consequences of disappointing their Archon.

His enforcement of order done, for the moment, Arhvyn went to sit on his throne built onto the skimmer, to contemplate his next strike at the Farseer. As he watched Bhizysh have her wrack and grotesque handle the restraint, and dragging of the unfortunate Irustra and Murchvor away to be prepared for the pain engines, he was struck with inspiration.

* * *

 **A/N: Welp this chap's a bit shorter than previous ones, but it progresses the plot, somewhat. Plus I had real fun writing an ork kommando against a mandrake, please all, let me know what you think. I know the pov shifts can be jarring to some, but thanks for sticking with it, promise it'll be a bit better, now that our group in together.**

 **Shout-outs:**

 **BIBOTOT- Thank you for the review, your comments, and suggestions are always appreciated, and quite insightful. I will certainly address some of your points raised, they are valid, and I appreciate the feedback.**

 **Mr. War- I hope this is living up to you expectations, as always thank you for the request, this has been a pleasure to write.**

 **Until next time ladies and gentlemen.**

 **300-709**


	4. Rendezvous

**"Few really believe. The most only believe that they believe or even make believe."- John Lancaster Spalding**

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

Resea Arana_Master Sergeant

Experience, ideology, training, and many other reasons instilled in her from the moment she could first comprehend the world around her told her not to trust the xeno, this Eldar. Even with the return of the reassuring weight of her weapons, she was on guard, just waiting for the moment she and her squad could get away, or even better kill them.

Unfortunately experience, and training also told her that the chances of either were nil, she wasn't stupid. The xenos for all their myriad faults were not stupid. Especially one that was tainted by the warp, precognition being only one of the powers she may well possess. Resea also knew of their superior reflexes, as did her comrades, one errant twitch that suggested they'd act on their blatant thoughts and they'd all be dead before anyone got off a shot. They were back in the Eldars sights the moment the mutual threat of orks and Dark Eldar had been repelled.

So, instead they went along with the Eldar witch's wishes, they followed, under scrutinizing eyes. The Tau likewise followed with them, equally prisoner to the far more enigmatic Eldar, and equally helpless despite their advanced technology. Where they were going and what the Witch's ultimate plan was held her interest, lies within lies was not an inaccurate description of Eldar alliance with humans, but there was always some vestige of truth. There could very well be a Chaos threat behind the curtain of this war, an enemy she knew all too well.

An enemy that even the slightest insinuation of would have her considering something as vile as actually allying their xenos captors.

"Fuenel needs to be picked up, Caltar will be able to treat him properly on the ship," She heard one of the xenos say, it was female, Orelimo she thought was its name. She'd yet to deduce why the xenos seemed to speak low gothic in their presence, though she was thankful for it, learning about ones enemy was important. Some considered the notion heretical, and it could be if taken to extremes, but information was valuable, even the mundane could be useful.

"For once I agree with the sword-princess, we'd better get him some medical attention, more than we can give him here anyway." Another, Baharryss spoke, care for his fallen comrade in his tone. Orelimo she noticed seemed to turn her nose up at him for his remark on her, but otherwise didn't say a word.

Looking past their guard of two more Eldar Resea watched as consideration passed on the Eldar Witch's features, well what she thought of as consideration anyway, the Witch was hard to read via expression.

"I believe you are right, but not here, the Tau dropships are not far now, and the area is not safe with our dark kin so close by. We fall back to the predesignated landing zone." Taerosa spoke, her tone full of authority, though Resea sensed a bit of trepidation.

"How are we supposed to move him and your little pets at the same time Farseer! Lomon, we have to either dump the lower lifeforms, or call Caltar to this location for the damn pick-up. For Isha's sake make the right call, we shouldn't be babysitting these monkeigh and tau!" Another Eldar spat out, one of the one's with his weapon pointed at them, Argliem Resea heard him called. His large imposing weapon pointing at her and the squad had her very concerned, she'd seen what death-spinners could do, here and on other battlefields.

"Get your head out of your arse Argliem, and that goes for everyone else too," Lomon the leader of the group after the Witch said firmly, pausing to rub his face. "But, I have to say Farseer, he's right, we can't do both, this is your show, so what are your orders?"

"Have Telsho, Kayakas, and Asherosa take Fuenel ahead to the pick up zone. Contact Caltar to inform him on the situation, the rest of us will re-group there with our allies as soon as we can. I believe the remaining five of us can take care of our charges, the skeins are in our favor after all." Taerosa spoke with clear authority on the issue, Lomon nodding along with her plan, his manner speaking on his conviction to follow through with her wishes.

"You heard the Farseer ladies and gentlemen. Telsho, Kayakas, Asherosa get Fuenel back ship-side, and go with him while you're at it. We'll make the call when we're ready for pick-up too, secondary location so we're not fouled up by another ambush," the lead ranger gave his orders rapid-fire.

The Kasrkin watched, her eyes taking in the elegant precision with which the xenos moved, as they seemingly spirited away their fallen comrade. The group of four was out of sight, gone before they knew it, leaving them with just five Eldar to deal with. Still bad odds at such close range, but better than they had been, Resea figured she could try and glean what information she could while they were in the presence of the xenos. However, she was keen on taking any moment of opportunity that could present itself.

She reckoned the Tau would want to escape as well, and follow their lead when she and her squad made a move. It was a bit of a gamble, but it would be their best bet, with the addition of the Tau firepower they just might be able to make a break from their Eldar captors. That possibility would be a narrow window if ever it came up though.

The Eldar witch, the Farseer had approached them again. The rangers guarding them, Argliem and Baharryss backing away as she did, some unspoken word from her Resea assumed. She seemed to eye all of them, taking note of each one, perhaps using her magiks to peer into their futures. Resea noticed that her gaze lingered a bit longer on one of the Tau than the other, and finally came to a stop directly on her specifically.

"I already know what you're thinking Master Sergeant, you're like any experienced soldier, just waiting for your chance at escape. I implore you to take what I have said into consideration, and think better of what your actions will be when the time comes. As I said, soon the reason for my being here, and your aid will become apparent." She spoke calmly, and Resea could detect no malevolence, or treachery in her tone. Though experience told her otherwise, her gut was telling her to actually give the Farseer the benefit of the doubt. The thought that the feeling could simply be psyker trickery didn't leave her guarded mind though.

"Oh, and the reason we've been speaking your language this entire time?" The Farseer paused, actually smirking, perhaps in bemusement at Resea's thoughts. "Well, consider it a gesture of goodwill, same as your returned weapons."

Resea gave no voice to her thoughts, deciding not to respond, already knowing the Farseer knew what she was thinking.

"Well then, it would be time to move, we shouldn't keep our companions waiting for too long," Taerosa voiced, motioning for the rangers to get everyone moving in the proper direction. Resea nodded and allowed herself to be led, her squad following her automatically, the Tau a little more hesitant, though prompting from the rangers helped them along. They seemed to be retracing their steps through the offices, Resea noticing all of the dead Tau bodies they passed.

It was a wonder there wasn't any Tau forces left, they may very well have retreated from the position, or died to the last firewarrior once the orks had breached the building. Her squads own body count surely helped things along if the latter was the case. Although her experience with Tau and their fighting doctrine suggested the former was the case, they tended to retreat if they couldn't hold ground. Which meant, that there could be small cadres roaming the area, along with orks, and possibly the Dark Eldar.

Coming to the same back entrance she and her squad had used to enter the building she was grudgingly impressed by the Eldar. They communicated with each other both smoothly, subtly, and unspoken in a way a human never could. Each knew precisely what the other wanted them to know, she would have chalked it down strictly to their psyker potential, if it wasn't for the very subtle twitches of ears, nods, and facial motions they seemed to aim at one another before making a move.

They extracted themselves from the area smoother than Resea had ever done in the past on a mission. And that was saying something, she and hers weren't considered the best of Cadia for no reason, and yet these xenos made them appear amateur. They kept a fast pace, she noted the Eldar around her almost grimacing at every slight noise she and her squad would make. Even more so at the Tau, who had a harder time keeping up, their armor and slighter frames detracting from their mobility.

They kept to the side streets and back-alleys as much as possible, went through buildings to avoid patrols, or roving mobs. There were still a lot of orks in the sector, the Eldar kept them under strict compliance, Resea never felt a good time to try and run off. She still felt they had time though, these Eldar were good, which meant their secondary extraction zone would be far off from the first. That gave her more time for an opportunity to arise.

Approaching a crossroads up ahead the Eldar began to actually slow. They spoke in their own language this time, probably so they wouldn't tip their prisoners off about something. If they were kept blind so to speak, then they would be easier to hold onto, but Resea saw through it. Glancing around at her squad she knew they did too. Up ahead, not too far past the crossroads there was a battle underway, not the ever present deceiving echos of battle as could be heard through all of the city.

No this was something tangible, close, and quite varied if her ears didn't deceive her. Imperial weapons she knew the sound of by heart, the _whine-crack_ of lasguns, heavy rocket propelled _booms_ of bolts, and the chatter of autoguns and stubbers. The big obnoxious **chak-** _ **BOOM**_ of ork shootas, and their gleeful warcries, even Tau pulse-weapons, whose sound she'd become familiar with by now too. It was a free-for-all up ahead, and a big one too, judging by the sound of it.

She was willing to bet the Eldar knew this too, and they didn't want to go through that. Possibility of coming into contact with one of the three enemy forces would be great. Add to that any firefight they had to engage in would limit their ability to keep their eyes on their captives. It was a sure recipe for something to go wrong. The lead ranger seemed to be arguing this over with the Farseer, and though Resea didn't understand what they were saying, she got the gist. It was a matter of one peril over the other.

The immediate danger of running into enemy forces, and losing their prisoners, or the danger of giving their far deadlier and cunning foe the Dark Eldar time to re-group and make another attempt to capture them. An attempt that would surely be more likely to succeed than the first. Their smaller numbers, as well as the Dark Eldar no doubt bringing more to bear of their own forces would assure that. It was obvious which was preferable, putting herself in their shoes—a dangerous notion for an Imperial faithful—Resea knew what her decision would be.

Discussing it further the Eldar came to a decision, and then they were moving toward the sounds of battle. As before using back-alleys and buildings to avoid contact as much as they could. To Resea's consternation they were doing a damn good job of it too. Between the Eldars experience, higher senses, and no doubt the Farseer's psyker gifts they seemed to be slipping right through, past, and around any engagements they came across.

None dared to try and call out to allies either, her and her squad, or the Tau. It would be all too possible such an action would just get them shot to pieces before their allies realized their error. Such was the chaos of war. Gritting her teeth Resea thought they'd be losing out on this, and her only recourse would be to order a futile escape attempt, they wouldn't make it ten paces.

Stopping again the Eldar motioned for all of them too as well. Hiding behind the shelves of some storefront Resea watched as the battle outside raged, unaware of them, it almost felt wrong. Beyond the broken glass front were hundreds of her Cadian comrades, Princip PDF supplementing them with hundreds more, tanks and Chimeras providing them moving cover as they tried to take positions from Tau defenders. Ork mobs adding to the chaos of it all, pouring in from side roads, in some cases forcing the Tau and human combatants to cease killing each other and turn their attention to the murderous greenskins.

They had been here for quite a bit, minutes in fact, and that meant something was wrong. Obviously at this interval there seemed to be nowhere to go, and no other option than to wait out the battle, and hope that no one stumbled upon them. Looking to Taerosa, Resea could see her conversing with Lomon yet again, using only Eldar body language, a bit overly cautious. With all the fighting happening any potential enemies wouldn't so much hear them as simply stumble upon them by blind chance.

She heard shuttering, clanking, rumbles from the outside. Roughly six-o-clock of their position, they were loud, the sound of overworked diesel engines and hydraulics. Whatever it was it was making the ground shake, and caused everyone to be on edge at its approach, the Eldar especially. Resea saw a look pass over Taerosa's face, the Farseer glanced directly in her direction too, simply shaking her head, almost in a plea, 'Don't do it,' the look seemed to beg

It was then that the back wall behind them seemed to blow inwards, making the sound louder, and sending them all scrambling in different directions. A massive mechanical foot coming down to break through the ceiling a second later. They all stuck with their own kind, blind animal instinct dictating their actions as everyone avoided getting crushed.

Resea her squad right behind, immediately took the opportunity to separate themselves from their Eldar captors, putting distance between them as the ork stompa broke through. Only the ramshackle orkoid bastardization of an Imperial titan's legs visible as they crashed through the building.

With the ceiling collapsing down Resea felt confident they could get away from the Eldar. Last she had seen the rangers were attempting to re-group around the Farseer. Looking back toward them through the wreckage she saw the surly Argliem seemed to have sustained an injury. His left arm was gone, along with the deathspinner, maybe lost to crushing debris, or even the stompa's mechanical foot as it had come down on them. The other ranger Baharryss also seemed to have a limp, Orelimo had a minor wound to her head, and still supported the injured Baharryss. Leaving only Lomon and Taerosa unharmed, both of which seemed to be arguing animatedly about something.

In any case the Eldar now seemed much more preoccupied with saving their own skin than worrying about them. But, Resea's thoughts nagged at her, even as Starkrage—ever dutiful—pulled at her arm and voiced thoroughly that they ought to get going. Friendly forces were close by, they could re-group with them, and relay the Eldar situation to command. The intelligence would surely be valuable and appreciated. Now they were out of the building, the debris of its collapse obscuring any vision of their former captors.

Still, one thing was going through Resea's mind, the archenemy… chaos, that was what the Farseer had warned them about. If it was true, then she wouldn't forgive herself if she had the opportunity to save this world from the dark gods, and didn't take it.

"Corporal Starkrage, get back in touch with command, tell them about the situation. Have them mobilize the specialist units." She ordered him in a tone that brook no argument.

"What! Master Sergeant, what are you saying!" His reply was rushed, uncharacteristic of his nature, though the nigh deafening sound of the ork stompa unleashing hell behind them may have had something to do with it.

"That Farseer may have been lying, but if she isn't then Princip is about to be hit by a chaos incursion. We can't let that happen, I'm going ahead with the xenos, you're my back-up plan. If I'm wrong than at least you and the squad will get intel about this to command. At worst I'm a xenos prisoner, in which case all they have is a lowly N.C.O, hardly valuable for information regarding our overall operations here, or anywhere else." Resea spoke back, her voice firm. Starkrage looked at her, she could see his disbelief, and then his realization and acceptance.

She looked past him to the rest of them, her squad, her troopers. They all looked unbelieving, but they'd served together for years, they trusted her to a fault. She nodded to each of them, Hanne, Riren, and Jar. Looking back to Starkrage she clapped his shoulder. "Keep everyone safe for me Corporal, I expect you all to be alive when I get back. Now get the warp out of here!"

Resea Arana, guardswoman, Imperial Master Sergeant… Kasrkin, charged back into the wreckage of the building, intent on helping a xenos. She shook her head as she went back. She worked her way through the collapsed building, back to where she'd last remembered seeing the Eldar. Eventually she found her way into the small area they'd been, only seeing the Farseer still present, she approached cautiously.

The Farseer was sitting on a chair that seemed to have miraculously stayed out of the way of falling debris. She sat calmly despite the raging battle outside, her gaze focused directly on Resea as she entered the small bubble that had escaped destruction. She expected the rangers to come out any moment and restrain her, fearing she'd made the wrong call. But that didn't happen, instead it was just her and the Farseer, surrounded by the sounds of the titanic battle just outside.

"I sent the rangers ahead of me, they'd taken too many losses, and don't worry we'll be quite safe here. The battle outside won't encroach again." She sighed out, turning her slitted eyes away from Resea's gaze, and toward another part of the wrecked building.

"Why didn't you go with them?" It was the obvious question, though Resea felt the need to ask it anyway. She was, and always has been a direct person after all, growing up on Cadia will do that to you too.

The Farseer looked back to her, tilting her head slightly. "I already told you, I need your help to stop this, not theirs. At least not at this moment, you play a consistent part in the skeins, besides they need time to rest and recuperate, and for now their path is separate from our own." She saw Resea's incredulous look. "Believe me it took quite a bit of convincing, but Lomon is a true believer, he trusts my visions."

"So where does that leave us, you obviously know I'm willing to help you now, what exactly are we doing, and where do we have to go to stop this Chaos threat." She kept her tone firm, as though she were addressing one of her squad. She noted the Farseer seemed to be peeved by this, though she could be wrong, xenos expressions were hardly her specialty. No, killing them was more like it...

"It's a good thing I've been spending time with rangers..." she barely heard Taerosa mutter under her breath. "I'm glad you're trusting of me now-"

"I don't trust you," Resea cut in tersely.

"-In any case, your cooperation will be saving lives. Billions of them, your people and mine, but we're still short, we'll need the Tau." Taerosa voiced quickly after, not allowing Resea to interject again. She watched as a grimace came over the human's face. To be expected, it was hard enough to get her to trust her, and now she was asking her to ally with another alien. Taerosa had to hold back the smirk, it would be especially funny later, she was sure of that.

"I don't think they stuck around," Resea made a show of looking around her, at all of the destruction. "My bet is they ran off like I had my squad, and you your rangers."

Taerosa stood up, walking over to an open area leading out of their bubble, and into another open space. "You're partly right about that, certainly one of them did. Luckily the one we need couldn't." She called over her shoulder as she went out of sight.

* * *

 **Minutes earlier…**

The young firewarrior couldn't believe what was happening, fighting gue'la elite, captured by Eldar, and now scrambling like an insect to avoid getting crushed by the giant ork warmachine. He was being pulled along by Viro, she had clearly figured now was their chance to get away, with friendly hunter cadre's so close by they were sure to find refuge. Though from the sound of the battle outside, and the arrival of the ork stompa, he was having doubts they would really be any better off.

Thoughtful as he was Irah was keeping aware of his surroundings, which happened to save them, looking up he had a split-second decision to push Viro forward. She made a startled yelp as the momentum carried her beyond the chunk of support beam falling down. Irah wasn't so lucky, the beam fell right across his chest, pinning him to the floor. He thanked the greater good his nanocrystaline breastplate saved his chest from being crushed.

Unfortunately the weight was too much for him to lift, and the building was falling apart, the discord outside of the ork titan opening up with rockets and heavy machine guns creating more chaos. Irah swore he felt the inside of his head pulse, even through the noise dampening effects of his helmet's systems.

"Irah!" Viro's voice is loud in his ears, courtesy of their internal comm-link. "Hold on, I'll get this off you." They began trying to budge the beam, him pushing, Viro pulling. But, it was too heavy, the higher gravity of Princip, combined with their slighter forms working against them. Irah knew it was hopeless, even if Viro seemed determined, but he couldn't let her waste her life here. The building was coming down, and he had no idea how long before the Eldar possibly rounded them up again. Or if the battle outside would again incur on the building.

Irah had made his decision, for the greater good, or at least for the benefit of his comrade. "Viro, forget it, get out of here the building's coming down, and the Eldar could be coming for us. The Cadres need to know about the Eldar, one of us has to survive this, for the greater good." He spoke as clearly as he could, but he knew she heard the fear in his voice, he didn't want to die. But he was doing the right thing.

"You know I have an issue with the greater good damn it! I'm not leaving you here because of that excuse!" She argued back.

"Then leave me to save yourself! Both of us don't have to die here, you could save more with this information." Irah threw back, he'd stopped trying to push the beam off by now, just to get his point across.

He heard her growl in aggravation, giving it one final try, heaving with all her might. Fate wasn't having it though, the beam stayed put, Viro let loose a string of curses, banging her hand against the post in impotent rage. She gave him one final look, Irah couldn't see her features, their helmets obscured everything, but he felt her eyes boring into his own.

"Damn it! Fine, but don't you die, I'm coming back for you, I'll get help from the Cadre, I will be back for you Irah! Don't die, not even for the greater good!" He voice was filled with anger fueled passion, and Irah felt it would be unwise to argue the point. If it would get her out of here and to safety, then he would go along with it.

"Don't worry I'm not going anywhere," he said, somewhat sarcastically. Where had he gotten that kind of brave attitude? Anyway, he decided it didn't matter, better to go off on a good note, right? Viro nodded to him, before turning and getting out of the area, she disappeared through the fallen debris. Irah breathed easy despite his situation, the rumbling of titanic footsteps outside was growing farther away as the ork stompa advanced. The building seemed to have stopped crumbling anymore than it was.

Overall he'd take the small mercy's, looking around he wondered what would happen to him now. Would the Eldar find him and recapture him? Would the Imperials put a hole in his head? Would he be savaged by orks? Or would Viro actually come through on her promise?

It was all quite a lot to take in, the din of battle outside didn't help, yet the whole situation felt almost surreal to him. Almost as though he still had a part to play in everything…

"Well I was half right, one of them did run for it." He heard a voice say, it was close by, somewhere behind him. It sounded instantly familiar too, the gue'la, their commanding officer if he was right.

"I am seldom wrong, though the skeins do change quite often." He heard another voice, this one bearing the lyrical note of the Eldar.

What in the greater good was going on? He craned his head as far as his helmet allowed, which was not very, and managed to glimpse the sight in his peripheral. Two figures, one taller than the other, slender and almost elegantly built, the other shorter with telltale battle-scarred gue'la armor. He watched as the Eldar raised her hand, the weight of the beam eased from his chest, Irah watched as it floated away and was placed down gently beside him.

He shot to his feet instantly, and instantly the gue'la had her weapon aimed square at his head.

"Give me a reason xeno," she spoke evenly. Irah put his hands up, he hadn't been thinking right, it didn't really matter though, his pulse-rifle was lying on the ground out of reach anyway. He watched as the Eldar gently placed her hand on the gue'la's weapon, lowering it slowly, speaking as she did.

"Please Master Sergeant, a little restraint, I'd prefer it if you didn't shoot our ally." The Eldar spoke low gothic, the translators in his helmet still set to the language picked it up perfectly. He looked back and forth between the two, both curious about what they meant, and still frightened that he'd be killed. Despite the Eldar's words.

"Don't think I'll have to, it looks like it'll die of fright if I so much as sneeze at it." Irah had the pride to be somewhat offended at the gue'la's words. But, he didn't give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

" _He_ is unfortunately a newblood to combat amongst his people. Wouldn't that be correct Shas'La T'olku Irah?" The Eldar spoke.

"Y-yes, but h-how did you know that?" Irah found the question leaving his mouth before he could stop it.

"Other than her being a witch, I'd say it was from the way you looked like a frightened little whiteshield on their first tour, not even armor can hide that vibe." The gue'la spoke, her weapon now mercifully pointed away from him. He did puff up indignantly at that, though the gue'la looked more amused than intimidated at the display, the fact he didn't have his weapon probably didn't help.

"What is a witch?" He confused tone—tau translators are great—drew a confused look from the gue'la while the Eldar merely stated through him with a knowing look.

"You've never seen a psyker before, well then, count yourself lucky." The gue'la muttered out, Irah didn't miss the look the Eldar threw her way, it was peculiar.

"I prefer the term Farseer, but that isn't so important right now. I believe I've already explained, but seeing that today has been trying for you I'll repeat it. I need your help, the lives of billions depend on our success, even the Tau will feel this if the archenemy's plans are realized here." She paused, Irah noted his pulse rifle floating into her outstretched hand, she held it out to him. "If it helps this is most certainly in the interest of the greater good."

The young firewarrior stared at the being before him for a moment, registering the information, and processing what he'd just seen. How had she made his rifle float through the air? Some kind of gravitic technology? He found himself wondering just how advanced the Eldar really were.

Slowly he took his pulse rifle, careful to keep it pointed away from the two beings in front of him, so as not to appear threatening. Another thought struck him a moment later, she knew about the greater good, and more than that hadn't killed him yet. In fact, other than taking him prisoner these Eldar had gone through great lengths to assure him of their trust. Plus, if the xenophobic gue'la was willing to trust her then Irah felt he ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, his people were always open to cooperation with other races if it was possible.

"Who, or what exactly is it that you're trying to stop?" His voice sounded meek even to his own hearing. The young firewarrior hoped it wasn't picked up by the two beings before him, though he was sure it was.

"An evil your people have been lucky to have rarely faced. According to the skeins you are to help me vanquish its foothold on this world before it can become a threat to others. Right now that means we must head down into the sewers beneath, though we are a little far off from where it would be optimal to enter." Irah noted the almost caring way the Eldar spoke. As though she knew exactly what his fears were.

With all of this information swirling around in his head he was quite unsure what to do. Should he help this Farseer out? Was it really in the interest of the greater good? If what she was saying was true than surely it was, but he'd never heard of chaos, the archenemy, was it some kind of alien?

"Hey whiteshield! Time to make a decision, you go with us, or we leave you behind." The gue'la's stern tone snapped Irah out of his pondering, and he was embarrassed that he snapped to attention as though she were a Shas'Ui.

"I-I'll go, just lead the way Farseer." He found himself agreeing, despite his concerns.

"Good, now that you two are on board all we have to do is wait for the forth member of our party." The Farseer replied, Irah noted the slight smirk on her lips. "He should be here shortly, I ask that both of you refrain from shooting him, he will be quite compliant, if a little raucous, you'll know him once you see him. As a matter of fact I believe you and he have already met Shas'La."

Already met? Irah could hardly fathom who she meant, his Shas'Ui maybe? Viro had gone off, maybe she'd find him alive and well, and bring him and the cadre back to this building. He'd heard that Shas'Ui Shiung was quite wild during his off time.

"Now we're waiting for a fourth member for this blasphemous party? You're trying my patience here Farseer, this position is untenable at best, and liable to get us killed," the gue'la spoke, her tone even, though Irah detected the underlying concern.

"I already told you we'll be quite safe here. In case you hadn't noticed the battle has been slowly moving away from us, both of your forces have had to give ground." The Farseer told the truth, Irah had noticed the sounds of battle getting farther away, the din caused by the orks the most prominent to be absent. "Besides, we need not be staying for much longer, it would appear our final member has finally found us." The Farseer looked in a direction behind Irah pointedly.

It was only then Irah heard, and even felt the presence of this final member. He wasn't blind to the way the gue'la's eyes widened, and how she sharply brought her weapon to bear on _something_ behind him. The young firewarrior turned slowly, coming face to chest with a wall of green muscle and piecemeal armor. He had to crane his neck to look up at the tusk filled maw that seemed to smile down at him.

He found himself thinking that it couldn't possibly be the same ork, at the same time he was almost wetting himself, his eyes falling on his oath blade, still buried into the ork's side.

"Hey thar little blu, did ya miss ol' Wilddaggha?"

* * *

 **A/N: Well, glad I got this out. Gonna be switching back to 'Our Masks' for my next update. But, I hope you my lovely readers are enjoying this, especially you Mr. War. I know what you're al saying, 'oh my an ork working with other races! Blasphemy!' well that really only applies based on what lore you ascribe to I suppose. I'm going by the lore found in black library publications, specifically Gav Thrope and his 'Last Chancers' series.**

 **Orks are kill happy nut cases, essentially, but they are willing to bargain with you if you've got the bigger stick... err choppa, or are a tough bugger (or ya know at least put off fighting you for a bit, so you get nice and ripe). Plus what ork would pass up a good fight? Even if they've gotta put up with a humie, tau, and elder? Meh, its for the good of the narrative, hope you all understand. Thought about going with Watgrad taking the sneaky, stalky route and shadowing the trio, but that didn't seem to want to play out in the story.**

 **ChaotixController- Glad you like ol' Wilddaggha, I do too, orks are too fun to write. Hope you like the way I'm gonna be taking him, more on that next chapter if you're wondering how and why he showed up. Also glad you enjoyed the fight scene, it was difficult to pull off, and I'm still not quite sure I did it justice. There'll be more of that awesomeness coming though, you can be sure of that.**

 **BIBOTOT- Thanks for the review, insightful and appreciated as always. I've gone back and reviewed your concerns with the last chapter, hopefully it's fixed up a bit better than before. Grammar has never been a strong suit of mine. As for your offer I apologize for not being able to take you up on it. Most of my mistakes are issues on my end that I'd like to rectify on my own. Besides that I've had a lot of issues with betas in the past, nothing on you I'm sure you're great, I just have problems with scheduling and such. So really it's on me, but I appreciate the offer. And I hope you're still enjoying the story, I'd recommend 'The Mad Game' by phantomblooper45 if you want a good story to read too. Not sure if you've stumbled across it, but I must say it's quite good. I'm a bit biased toward it though, as it's a continuation of '15 Hours' the first story set in the 40k verse I ever read. So take my endorsement with a grain of salt lol.**

 **Well that wraps this atrociously long A/N up folks, hope you're enjoying yourselves. Sorry to you if you've read this far into it...**

 **300-709**


	5. Da Plan

**A/N: sorry for the wait to those of you reading this.**

* * *

7.562.456.M41. (Imperial_Calander)/

Ultima_Segmentum, Clayde_System

Princips, Capitol City Briem

The_Fragmented_Four

"An Ork!" Resea exclaimed, her shotgun leveled unerringly at the behemoth before her, how had she not noticed it before? "Now I know you are mad Eldar, we should be putting lead into this greenskin right now, not talking about allying with it. You and the Tau are one thing, but I will not abide this!" The master sergeant was getting more and more threatening with her stance and tone by the second.

Taking in the sight of the xeno before her Resea could see it was similar in build to other Orks she and her team had killed. A bit taller than the usual, probably a nob in its own right, but not nearly as large as some of the others she'd seen. Indeed this Ork seemed a bit of an anomaly, perhaps one of the fabled 'kommandos' she'd heard about, tales told by fellow Guardsmen of Orks that actually utilized camouflage, and fought akin to Guard special forces units.

Certainly that was what she was looking at, the unexpected stealth, despite its large frame, along with the soot, dust, and paints smeared all over its skin and armor. Which was doing a remarkable job of blurring the brute's outline against their collapsed surroundings. Discerning his form was difficult, but she could make out the usual ramshackle armor worn by the barbaric race. Slabs of thick plasteel or adamantium, likely taken and recycled from past battlefields, covered only its most vital areas, sternum, back, thighs, and forearms.

It also wore a helmet, a converted astartes helmet! Though one could hardly tell it was so butchered, chopped to fit the uneven Orkoid head, faceplate and lens cut out, leaving only the helmet's dome to cover the vital parts of the cranium. The xeno had even bolted stubby horns onto the sides. The sight of evidence that one of the Emperor's finest warriors had fallen to this xeno scum sent Resea's blood boiling, and she wasn't usually prone to zealotry.

Hanging from leather webbing it had grenades of various sizes, and make, some of them Guard issue she noted. Other than that he carried two 'daggers' if the large crude blades could be called such. One was stowed across his chest, sheathed up tight, whilst the other he held. It was narrow, relatively speaking, this was an Ork blade after all. Straight, with various knicks taken from the blade, but still well enough sharp, and ending in an asymmetric angular point.

Finally she noted the smaller blade sticking out from the Ork's side, also alien in design, but certainly too small and finely crafted to be of Orkish make. Her thoughts went back to it's introduction, it had called the Tau 'little blu,' the two had fought in the past it seemed. She found herself mildly impressed with the Tau, going hand-to-hand with an Ork, scoring a blow, and then surviving the fight? Especially for the notably physically weaker blue xenos, it was a surprising achievement.

"Watgrad sense a good figh' comin', you wanna go little humie? Ol' Wilddaggha doesn't mind, you look like you'd put up a righ' proppa scrap!" The greenskin's natural zeal for battle was coming forth, its mouth breaking out into a tusk filled grin. Resea noted it hardly raised its voice though, the Ork was quiet, and that was unsettling, it showed an awareness of its situation, and surroundings. It didn't want them to be found by any lingering parties still outside the crumbled walls they sheltered in. The Ork was cunning, and as the old Guard saying goes 'Fear the cunning Ork, because you'll never expect it, until it hits you,' it was going to be troublesome…

"Master Sergeant, I realize this is strange to you, however the Ork is here to help us. His participation will be pivotal in what is to come, please lower your weapon, you too Shas'La Irah..." The Farseer spoke calmly and firmly, despite the tense situation. From the corner of her eye Resea just now noticed the Tau also had his weapon trained on the Ork, though his hands and arms were shaking, he might end up shooting the Ork accidentally before long.

"Give me a good reason Farseer." Resea spoke evenly, still not letting up, her sights on the Ork's grinning face.

"Simple, Watgrad Wilddaggha," the Farseer's melodic voice sounded wrong pronouncing such a crude name, she enunciated it as the Ork had, surprisingly respectful. "Seeks a good fight, as all of his kind does, and I'm sure he knows that if he follows us, and keeps us alive. Then he shall find the most epic, and 'proppa' scrap of his lifetime thus far."

She looked pointedly at Watgrad. "Isn't that right, Ork?"

Watgrad laughed lowly, a reverberating rumble from his barrel chest. "Stickie said Ol' Wilddaggha's name righ'n proppa, and Orky. Watgrad likes you, if it gets Watgrad to a righ' proppa scrap..." the ork paused, grinning at all of them. "Then Watgrad thinks tha' he'll follow you fer now, c'n always scrap with all o' you when dis done."

Resea was hardly convinced, she'd be keeping an eye on the Ork, for the moment she was satisfied though. Slowly she lowered her weapon, intent to put custom bolt shells through the Ork's brain-pan at a moments sign of hostility toward any of the rest of them.

"Fine Farseer, though I'll be keeping a close eye on the Ork..." She let the implication hang, not that she needed to. "lower your own weapon little Whitestripe," she carefully added.

She noted with satisfaction that the Tau obeyed her, his weapon's muzzle going down, and the situation becoming a bit less tense. The Ork seemed slightly disappointed, but its grin remained in place, though a bit lowered. The Farseer moved between the three wary individuals, right into the midst of the party, her regal form out of place among them.

"I am glad we have all come to an understanding, now time is of the essence, please follow me. We must make haste to the sewers," she spoke clearly.

"You're on point Ork..." Resea spoke clearly, directing as much command as she could at the belligerent greenskin.

"I's fine wit tat humie," Watgrad surprised her a bit, it actually understood Guard military jargon, further proof of its unfortunate cunning to her… she'd definitely need to keep a close eye on it.

 _'_ _Good thing I got_ _it_ _up front then, easier to shoot them in the back...'_ the thought ran through her head immediately.

"Farseer, seeing as you're the one who knows where this incursion will likely occur, I suggest you be in the middle of the formation. The Whitestripe will stay by your side, and I'll take rear guard." She nodded to herself thoughtfully, noting the new nickname she'd nigh subconsciously given the Tau. When the Farseer simply nodded to her she felt surprise as well, she'd expected a bit more fight on her decision, Eldar were usually very higher-than-thou in her experience. For one to accept her advice was decidedly unexpected. Still it certainly made things easier.

From a tactical standpoint the stealthy Ork up front could warn them of any danger, whether by fighting it, or actually telling them before he attacked she did not care. He'd likely distract whatever they ran into long enough for the rest of them to slip by. Meanwhile middle of their small group would be safest for the Farseer, as well as allow the Eldar leniency to use whatever psyker powers she may have at relative range. The Tau was inexperienced from what she'd observed, so she'd rather not have him in the important position of watching their backs, hence he'd be best protecting their biggest asset, the Farseer.

Plus, it left her with the most desirable position in this horrible context, behind all of her potential enemies. If the whole thing went tits up Resea felt she'd stand a fairly good chance of killing her three 'allies' before they could react, not perfect, but she could also more easily cut and run if necessary. Though her gut told her she'd need to see this through, if Princips was to survive.

"Wilddaggha, please get us to the sewers as quickly and subtly as possible, we'll need to enter via a main hub. Somewhere that'll lead us to the center of the whole system, can you do that?" The Farseer asked of the Ork, though Resea noted the Eldar's strong gaze holding her own, as if the witch had just read through all her thoughts, despite agreeing to her plan. It was certainly possible, but the Kasrkin took solace that the Eldar also saw her formation as their best option, which meant she'd still won the mental chess game. Looking over to the Ork she noted its frown.

"Not sure if'n Watgrad likes not being able ta bat gits about th' head, buh s'pose could get thar, cunnin' like tha' I am. Betta be a good scrap at th' end 'o this..." It seemed to mutter darkly to itself. Resea hoped the Farseer was right, this Ork better be reliable, otherwise she didn't fancy the idea of trying to kill it. Cunning Orks…

Watgrad began to amble away, leading them in what Resea could only guess was the proper direction, his heavy looking feet produced barely a hint of sound. She shook her head at the unnerving nature of this anomaly to the Orkoid species, the Farseer followed a moment later, allowing for distance. Little Whitestrip turned his helmeted head toward Resea, as though asking permission, she nodded curtly and he seemed to hop to the task. Playing catch up to the Farseer's longer strides, until he was just off to the Eldar's back left, out of the way of her main weapon arm, and able to provide cover and extra weapon fire for his vector of the formation.

Resea sighed to herself, questioning why she was doing this, was she losing it? Her pragmatic mind said no, that this was an odd situation, one worth taking the gamble if the Farseer was telling the truth, and her gut backed her up on this thought. But, her deeply ingrained indoctrination to the Imperium, and the Emperor's teachings still wriggled around in her mind, gnawing doubts into her soul.

Steadying herself, her resolve fortified, she stepped forward, to cover their rear.

 **XXX**

Irah felt odd, working with these aliens, one of which his people hated with a marked vehemence. Looking over to the Eldar he was in awe at how similar she and the Gue'la were overall. Though taller and with sharper features. However, the hair was certainly similar, if not exactly the same. Both sported dark brown, less obvious on the Gue'la as hers was hidden under the helmet, but a few strands peaked out from under the protective wargear. The Eldar in contrast wore no helmet, though she seemed to keep her hair cut short, it was utilitarian and at the same time he noted strangely stylish what with the layered appearance.

Pointed ears could easily be seen poking from under, swept back on her head, nose slightly upturned. The wargear fascinated him to no end, it seemed technological, yet at the same time ancient. Not purely utilitarian as the Gue'la's, nor advanced looking as his own peoples, and certainly a farcry from the scavenged and crude Ork's. No, it was graceful looking, the off-white armored plate seemed molded to her body, strong and ridged looking, certainly capable of taking a hit, but at the same time it was able to move and flex with her.

The surcoat was also fascinating, it reminded him of his own peoples cloth garments, it seemed to be of fine make. Displaying what he assumed were her peoples colors and symbols at the back. Last was her sword, again ancient yet advanced, he could practically feel it thrum with energy. Its gracefully wavy blade fitted to an elegantly simple hilt, with runes lining the center and running up the blade halfway. Looking back up he found her eyes, golden hued irises suddenly looking at him, he flinched a bit caught in the act of blatant ogling.

"You ought to keep your senses on our surroundings Shas'La Irah." Her melodic voice spoke, its tone was not reprimanding, though it should have been. Here they were in the middle of a war and he'd let his curiosity overrun his common sense and training! He nodded quickly, not trusting his voice at that moment, and quickly set about keeping vigilant of his zone of responsibility. His shoulders slumped and head ducked, he became suddenly tense, his crazy predicament suddenly sinking in. What by the Greater Good was he doing?

Looking forward briefly he just caught sight of the Ork, the lumbering greenskin seemed to effortlessly blend with his surroundings, and his steps unheard. Irah felt that trusting the savage was a grave mistake, though if the rumor he'd heard of the Eldar was true, then the Farseer likely knew enough to handle the situation. He'd have to trust in the enigmatic alien, it helped that her and her kind seemed to be living up to every expectation he'd had of her race, even if most expectations of his were being crushed under the weight of reality as of late.

He noticed the Ork stop moving immediately, the large brute looking back to them and simply waved them all forward, his ever present grin on his face. They moved warily, following in his track to where he'd stopped just outside of some blown out building. Coming to a stop beside his massive figure Irah was glad the Farseer interposed herself between him and the Ork. The Gue'la Guards-woman was slow to join them. A few moments later though and she too was beside them.

It was okay, the area they'd stopped in was surprisingly well hidden from view of the street, and afforded them view through the skeleton of a structure to whatever it was the Ork had stopped them for, and… Oh, well that was certainly problematic.

Irah's thought process sped up at a frantic rate as he saw the issue at hand. Ahead of them through the ruin, and debris of the building, they hid behind was an ork encampment. Set up in what he could figure was once a gue'la sporting area, one large section of the massive amphitheater blown out by a previous battle, allowing them a view of the encampment set up in what were once the surrounding spectator stands. Irah was stunned, he didn't relish having to go through here.

"We have to go through that mess, don't we," the Shas'La stated quietly, his tone one of numb resignation.

"Aw, don' worry Lil Blu, Ol' Watgrad'll get us tru dis camp, run by a righ' git it is. He won' s'pect nothin' you see." The Ork spoke with confidence, it did not sit well with Irah.

"By the throne, to think you damn greenskins would have a forward operating base this deep in. Is that..." The Guardswoman's eyes widened slightly, her shock barely seen. Irah followed her gaze and saw what she had. That was certainly problematic…

An ork, but not like those he'd encountered so far. No, this one was a gargantuan brute, its size putting even Watgrad to shame. Festooned in crude powered armor, decorated with the heads and skulls of near any conceivable species in the Milkyway, and holding a great metal slab of a sword four meters long, and almost half as wide. It stood a good four-and-a-half meters tall, again its shoulders almost half as wide.

They watched as the giant smacked another ork. Apparently displeased with what it might have said, or perhaps its mere proximity, whatever the case it brook no form of argument. Why should he? Irah wasn't sure if even a crisis suit ace could take it down.

"…An Ork Warboss," the Guardswoman's voice caught up with her brain. "You have got to be kidding me," her tone was exasperated.

"Ta get where Stickie needs ta get, we need ta go threw der," Watgrad spoke, clearly relishing the idea, and confirming their fears.

"Farseer, certainly you'll allow me to contact my team and get reinforcement. Warp even get your own and the little Whitestripe's, but we can't leave that Warboss alive, it could be leading the whole waagh," the Guardswoman protested. Despite not liking the nom-de-gurre she'd given him, and still being wary of her, she'd tried to kill him and nearly succeeded not long ago, still Irah was in agreement with her. Though he looked to their Ork companion warily, not sure how he'd think of them killing his leader.

To the Shas'La's shock he found the greenskin grinning even wider at the thought, or so it seemed, if Watgrad had any qualms about such business he certainly hid them well.

"No, it would not help, according to the skeins it would only make our chances worse. The four of us are sufficient for now." The Farseer's tone was confident, though the look in her eye suggested there was something else she wasn't telling them. Irah was finding it easier to discern what these aliens were thinking by the minute.

He looked toward the Guardswoman, seeing a frustrated frown on her face. "Riddles within riddles..." she muttered lowly to herself, turning to look at the Warboss in the distance again. Though she seemed to have decided not to push her point any farther.

The young Shas'La considered agreeing with her aloud, hopefully to gain traction for the idea. It was definitely sensible to eliminate such a threat if they could. Plus, he'd really like a few crisis suits, and maybe a hammerhead between him and that monster over there, it was bad enough one was right next to him. Before the words could leave his mouth though, Watgrad beat him to the punch.

"Herzog 'Ead Loppa's a' righ' git, don' worry get 'isself kilt wit'out any 'elp from us. You'z all jus' 'retend ta be the Wilddaggha's prisoner's an' them gits won' touch ya." The plan sounded plausible. Orks did take prisoners, on occasion… but really? Irah had his doubts about Watgrad's influence to keep them from getting killed. Plus, he had his doubts about the Ork in general, pretend to be his prisoners? More like end up actually being his prisoners once he led them down into that deathtrap.

"Likely a trap Farseer, even you can't be that blind, taking a greenskin at its word," the Guardswoman voiced Irah's very concerns. "Prisoners? Orks aren't likely to take prisoners in a warzone, especially combatants like ourselves."

"Watgrad will not betray us so easily Master Sergeant, for now we would do well to trust him." The enigmatic Farseer explained, Irah noticed she never did have specifics for them, and what was that about not betraying them 'so easily,' so did that mean he would betray them at some point? The whole situation and his place in it was starting to make his head hurt, all the talk about witches, chaos, and skeins.

"So he will eventually?" Irah started hesitantly. "Betray us I mean," he clarified.

Everyone's head shot his way at once, making the Shas'La jump a little, having three sets of eyes, belonging to experienced warriors looking at you at once would make most uncomfortable. The Guardswoman had a rueful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. The Farseer had a brow raised quizzically, as though genuinely surprised the young Tau even spoke. And the Ork was grinning at him teef on full display. Irah could not decide if the grin was malicious or not.

"Wilddaggha decided he'll stab all o' you'z in the front if'n we end up scrappin'. Watgrad don' go back on word, least not when he feels like it, 'sides owe you tha' a least for this." He finished by pointing at Irah's oathblade still stuck in his side, a low rumbling chuckle escaping his mouth. Despite its intent to allay their fears Irah found the Ork's words to do the opposite. The monster in front of him still intended to kill him at some point… he guessed he was lucky such an encounter seemed to be on hold, for the moment anyway.

"Funny as this whole situation is," the Guardswoman started dryly, idly checking her shotgun. "If we have to go through this charade, I'm not giving the greenskin any of my weapons or equipment."

"I-I agree," Irah piped up again. The Farseer he noted was looking between the two with what could have been tetchiness just beginning to glaze her sharp features.

"S'fine, Wilddaggha'll jus' say you'z gonna figh' in tha pit." The big greenskin spoke from where he was standing surprisingly silent until that moment, and just before the Farseer could open her mouth to try and persuade them to cooperate in whatever manner was required. She seemed relieved by the Ork's compromise though.

"Well, there you have it then, shall we continue on Master Sergeant, Shas'La?" Her tone one of diplomacy. Though the Ork's solution clearly did not sit well with either Irah and Resea both nodded grudgingly. If they were to see this through then it seemed there was no way around this unpleasantness. "Very good then, Wilddagha if you would escort us?" The Farseer turned control over to the Ork, who's perpetual grin stayed stuck in place.

"Need Lil Blu wit' me, tha rest o' you behind, try'n look tough' or tha boyz'll never t'ink Watgrad 'ould take ya alive." He walked up to Irah who's eyes had gone wide behind his enclosed helmet unbeknownst to everyone. Irah felt the powerful free hand of Watgrad grab his left arm, he yelped indignantly, surprised as he was practically dragged along, as though he were a rag-doll. The Ork hardly noticed his protests. Looking back to the Farseer and Guardswoman for help he saw them simply following along.

"Try to keep up with the greenskin Whitestripe, otherwise he might rip your arm out of its socket." A wry smile on her lips the Guardswoman advised him. Curse her! The Farseer remained impassive and aloof as was usual. Looking back to Watgrad he noticed the Ork smiling down at him.

"Da humie migh' be righ' about t'at Lil Blu."

Irah gulped audibly, it only made the Ork belt out booming laughter, which incidentally alerted the other orks to their presence. The mob of greenskins began to point and bark among each other, no doubt discussing what in the name of their gods was going on. Irah was amazed that they didn't simply attack them. Looking around at all the growling, hooting, and jeering faces Irah couldn't help but be reminded of a bunch of sports fans at a big game. Despite the hodge-podge of weapons and armor.

"Oi Wilddagha! W'at's dis then!" A nearby ork demanded, sauntering close to their group. Irah noted the strange leather pilot cap that was perched atop the ork's head, he was a bit shorter than Watgrad, but not by much. He wore goggles, a leather jerkin and trousers, as well as some steel plate strapped to his front, and a ridiculous amount of bandoleers holding spare rounds of ammo. In his hands was a rather large and cobbled together looking slug-thrower. Irah was amazed such a thing could be held together by tape and rivets as it was. More concerning was the gaggle of orks behind the newcomer, all sported similar garb, backing up their apparent leader.

"Got some good scrappa's fer da pit!" Their Ork teammate said jovially. Either he was a good actor, or this might be a bit more realistic than they bargained for…

"No' like you, why you no' kill these gits! T'ey don' look like scrappa's ta me, t'at lil un in'ya hands shaken' like a grot!" Pilot cap challenged.

"If'n old Wilddaggha says 'der scrappy, 'den by Mork dey are!" Watgrad challenged even louder, Pilot cap seemed unwilling to back down. Irah could see his squinty eyes looking at him, then the Guardswoman, and then the Farseer, and then back to Watgrad's own baleful stare.

"Still got shoota's and choppa's on 'em Wilddagha, you'z t'ink I'ma git!"

Irah really wondered why Orks seemed to communicated entirely via shouting, did they not have indoor voices or something? Perhaps their vocal cords weren't able to go below a certain decibel range? Then again Watgrad could be downright silent when he wanted to it seemed. Though the Shas'La was noticing more and more that their Ork was a bit of an… aberration from the norm. He noticed when Watgrad sheathed the knife he'd been holding. Then he hardly saw his big green arm swing out and connect solidly with Pilot cap's face, knocking a tusk from his mouth, and sending him reeling slightly to the side. The ork's 'boyz' behind him all became agitated, but none moved to help their leader, this was a game of dominance now.

The other Ork was almost as quick, swinging back up, and leveling that big slug-thrower with Watgrad's head. There was a tense moment of silence as all the Orks around them previously shouting among themselves suddenly turned quiet, Irah felt hundreds of piggy eyes on them. He could also practically feel the Guardswoman and Farseer tense behind him and Watgrad.

"NONE YER KOMANDOS 'EAR TA BACK YOU UP WATGRAD. MA' SHOOTA'LL TAKE OFF YER 'EAD 'FORE YOU'Z CAN USE ANY O' DOZ CUNNIN' TRICKZ O' YERZ!" Pilot cap bellowed, he was definitely angry now.

"Da Wilddagha don' need 'iz tricks ta clob you Razgull Quic' Shoota. So try it, ya git..." Watgrad spoke lowly in contrast to his brethren. Irah looked on, tense and nigh powerless to do anything in the situation, he noted Razgull's snarling face starting to waver. As though Watgrad were some sort of daemon before him, and he just realized the fact, slowly he lowered his big slug-thrower. Head shaking and slight snarl still on his face.

"Un o' dez dayz Wilddaggha, da rest o' da boyz'll figure out how un-orky youz is, den dis'll go dow' diff'rent." Razgull threatened, just before he barked something to his boyz behind him, who quickly began to part for Watgrad and his 'prisoners'. Leaving them a pathway toward the waiting Warboss, who had taken to sitting on a makeshift throne, made from what looked to be a former Leman Russ main battle tank among the stands.

"Un o' dez dayz is righ' Quic' Shoota, Mork kno' Da Wilddaggha more orky t'en any'a you'z," Watgrad barked with laughter as he led them down the path set before them. Razgull gave him the ork equivalent of a sneer as he passed, growling at the Guardswoman and Farseer shortly after, but none of the orks moved to stop them after that little display. Irah noted the various different faces of the orks around them, as well as their smaller gretchin and grot cousins, they all gave looks of curiosity mixed with animosity, and excitement.

Looking ahead he could see the large Warboss looking at them as though bored with the whole proceeding. Strange for an ork, though Irah supposed that once one of these savages got that big that most, save the most extreme looking of opponents might not stir their primal lust for battle. As it was he was glad that the enormous slab of metal it called a sword was leaning idly against its 'throne'.

"You'z trus' da Wilddaggha, you'z gon' hav'ta scrap in da pit, give you'z a signal I's will. Kno's it when's it 'appens you'z will, den you'z run ta da back o' da arena an wait fer da Wilddaggha. Non' else ta say, no' 'nough time," Irah was surprised at the low tone Watgrad used. His helmet's audio sensors could only just hear the ork. He was sure the Guardswoman and Farseer were entirely left out of the loop. Watgrad was trusting him to relay the plan. The fact that this ork could think that way was horrifying, it was bad enough that he could be stealthy.

Soon they were standing before the Warboss, Watgrad's low spoken plan apparently not heard, or cared about. Irah looked up at the behemoth, and so did his ork teammate, the Warboss looked down at them his eyes squinting at Irah specifically.

"Wilddaggha," Herzog 'Ead Loppa rumbled, his voice carrying far. "W'at's da meanin' o' dis? You'z neva bin da type ta take prisna's 'fore, dat cunnin' o' yers dryin' up?" He snorted.

It was odd still to Irah that these orks all seemed perfectly able to communicate as they did, and in low gothic too from what his helmet's translation software told him, how odd it was that they were using the gue'la language. Though if they fought the humans often enough, then maybe it wasn't such a stretch, by any measure it was still a crude imitation. He had no doubt the tone, grunts, and hoots played more into their communication than he realized.

"Meanin' iz dat they iz good scrappas! An ol' Wilddaggha, din't t'ink it'd be proppa fer da boyz ta miss ou' on da entertainment, dez un' be good fer da pit!" Watgrad spoke loudly for all the orks around them to hear. This began to get the orks around them grunting and talking, likely about the prospect of seeing a good fight, it seemed orks liked viewing martial entertainment almost as much as they like participating in it, but only narrowly.

Irah looked as the Warboss made a show of examining him and the others, each for a full five seconds, he didn't know if the Warboss did it for show, or if he was that analytical. Herzog let out a dismissive sounding snort.

"Dey don' look like dey'd get pas' da gretchin," the Warboss spoke a challenging grin forming on his face. Irah felt himself being shoved violently forward, he just barely caught himself, stumbling to stand not two meters in front of the Warboss who glared balefully down at him. The young Shas'La felt like his legs were going to buckle under that gaze, though he tried valiantly to put up an outward front of stoicism.

"Lil Blu 'ere stuck da Wilddaggha right good wit' iz tiny choppa," Watgrad lifted his arm, revealing his side, showing Irah's oathblade off to Herzog and the mob gathered around them. "No git'z been able ta even touch Watgrad in'a good long while, dis lot gave da Wilddaggha a good proppa scrap, could'a finished dem off, bu' figur'd da Boss 'ould like ta see do'se dat hurt da Wilddaggha figh' righ' an' proppa. Why's we made da pit in't it?"

Now there was more argument among the orks, they all seemed to be calling in favor of the fight, apparently Watgrad was a pretty big deal as he boasted. Enough to get the barbaric alien warriors around them clamoring to see them fight, and maybe get the chance to go one on one with them themselves. Even Herzog gave an approving snort, nodding his massive head at seeing Irah's oathblade stuck in the ork komando's side.

"ALRIGH' QUIET YA GITZ, OR HERZOG'LL BE GETTIN' NEW 'EADZ!" The Warboss bellowed, the mob of unruly greenskins quieted almost immediately, the biggest ork was boss after all. Herzog turned his attention back to them, Irah felt the massive gaze fall down on him again, then back to the others. "Well, get 'em in da pit Wilddaggha, we'z see if'n der as scrappy as ya say, or if'n yer losin' yer orkyness," Herzog spoke with finality. Watgrad nodded to the large Warboss, slamming his fist into his chest, a show of respect maybe?

Irah didn't have time to contemplate this however, because Watgrad was now dragging him, a compliant if scowling Guardswoman, and displeased looking Farseer bodily over to the edge of the arena stands. The trio had about three seconds to recognize it would be about a ten foot drop to the arena floor below.

"Member what Watgrad said Lil Blu, wait fer da signal," Watgrad spoke lowly with a chuckle before shoving the three of them over the side. Irah yelped, Resea cursed, and Taerosa simply took the abuse silently, and down they fell. Irah noted that he'd fallen practically face first to the dusty ground below, the Guardswoman landed on her feet heavily, but still upright, and the Eldar meanwhile had landed with all the grace he'd come to expect from her by now.

"On your feet Whitestripe! We'll be having guests soon I'm sure," the Guardswoman, Resea, did not sound pleased. "What did I tell you Eldar! A trap, an obvious trap, where are your skeins now throne damn them!" She was definitely not happy… Irah scrambled to his hooves, so as not to have her ire directed at him.

"We will be fine Master Sergeant, Watgrad would not let us be killed by others, as he said he wishes to kill us himself, and that means it will be he who tries, and him alone. We shall get out of this… I'm sure of it..." the Farseer spoke, though Irah swore he heard nervousness in her tone, slight though it may be. He'd have never thought the elegant and calm being could have felt such a thing, she'd seemed so sure of herself and their actions until now.

"Sounding a little doubtful there Farseer, I say the greenskin scum threw us to the wolves, sitting back ready to laugh as we all get torn to pieces." Resea spoke plainly, her weapon scanning around them, looking for hostiles, daring to lift to the crowds of jeering, hooting, laughing, rowdy orks. Though he noted with relief she didn't dare fire. If she did he wasn't sure what the savages would do, probably tear them all apart as their bloodlust was ignited by the shot.

"The skeins have foretol-"

"Emperor damn the skeins! Witchcraft, plain and simple, were you never taught to not trust everything the warp shows you?" Resea cut off the Eldar, Irah chanced a glance at the Farseer. He was surprised to see her head whip around to glare into the back of the Guardwoman's head with a miffed expression clear on her face.

"Now you listen here Mon'keigh!"

"He has a plan!" Irah found himself interjecting loudly. The two arguing aliens turned to direct their attention to him, both wore expressions of slight anger, he tried not to wilt under their combined gaze. "Watgrad, as he was walking me to the Warboss, he told me that we'd just have to wait for his signal. Then we hightail it to the far side of the arena and wait for him." Irah finished his voice only quivering slightly. The two strong willed women before him both softened their expressions as they took in the information. Resea still skeptical, but he could see the almost smug satisfaction the Farseer had about being proven right.

"And what signal exactly did the ork say it'd give Whitestripe?" Resea was of course the voice of doubt. Irah shrunk a little bit under the veterans attention.

"W-well, he didn't exactly get into specifics..." Irah admitted sheepishly.

"It matters not, he shall pull through, we just have to last until that time." The Farseer interrupted Resea as she was about to press further into the argument, Irah was grateful for her interjection.

"Well I suppose we'll just have to see if we even last that long, not much choice now..." The Guardswoman grumbled.

Before anything else could be said a loud, erratic, drum beat began. The spectating orks started to cheer louder as large slab doors at the other end of the arena slid open, revealing a horde of small green shapes, clad in scrap armor and armed with various knives, daggers, and small axes. Irah recalled these little imps, though he couldn't quite remember what they were called. About two dozen all told.

"Gretchin," Resea spat the name of the little orkoid runts. Seeing them armed with no firearms the Guardswoman stowed her slug-thrower, and instead pulled out the oversized combat knife strapped to her thigh.

"What are you doing!" Irah was genuinely confused, and horrified, did she really intend to fight them hand to hand? Sure they were small compared to even him, but still! The thought revolted him even now, and he'd fought a full grown ork.

"It's be a waste of precious ammunition little Whitestripe, besides, even you could kill Gretch in hand to hand… maybe." Resea replied as she brought her great knife before her in a defensive motion.

"Just let us do most of the close in fighting Shas'La, and cover our backs with your rifle." The Farseer reasoned, Irah felt comfort that they didn't expect him to join in the melee. Though judging by the large crowd of Gretchin he just might have to. Looking back to said opponents he noticed and ork in the background of the crowd of Gretch, goading them on with cracks from his whip. Their small green forms cowering away from their cruel shepherd.

As the little imps caught sight of the three of them they started to go into a frenzy. Not the blind enthusiastic battle-lust of their larger cousins, but more what seemed a conditioned response. Their ork master bellowed laughter as his little minions charged forward, their weapons and armor clattering like steel drums. It added to the sound of the crowds, and a swell of the drumbeat playing from somewhere, their small lungs all echoing a high pitched version of the orkish waaagh, as they came upon them.

Irah watched as Resea closed the distance between her and the foremost gretch. The small being held its arm back for a swing of its axe, even as its head was nearly chopped from its shoulders. Not stopping for anything the Guardswoman nigh punted the next closest green body away from her. From there she strafed to her left, her longer legs taking her around the left flank of their enemies, and confusing the crowd of simple-minded orkoids.

Half the group split to pursue Resea, whilst the other half went toward the serenely standing Eldar. Taerosa became a fluid afterimage of motion, and before Irah knew it seven of the little bodies were without heads, or limbs. A sick tango on the floor of the arena played out, the Eldar Farseer showing her martial prowess with the sword, red fluid spewed from limbs and body cavities. The cuts from the Eldar sword were so clean, and made so effortlessly, that Irah found them almost as neat as incisions made by surgical instruments.

Meanwhile he looked back to Resea, seeing her having a little trouble with the shear number of aggressors. Small hands reached out with blades, hoping to catch her in a misstep, though she was making it hard for the imps. Her knife lashed out, where the Eldar showed fluid grace, the Gue'La showed regimented precision and direct force. Screams erupted from the three or so Gretch on the receiving end of the Guardswoman's cuts and thrusts. Adding an ever growing pool of slick orkoid blood to the ground.

She was careful enough to keep her feet steady under her, sliding as much as she could, so as to avoid a misstep and likely death. Despite his training droning into him how necessary, and ultimately useless such close combat was, Irah could not help but admire the bravery and skill of both warriors before him. Though Resea certainly seemed to start lagging, lacking the preternatural endurance and speed of their Eldar companion, Irah saw two Gretch on her flank, ready to take advantage of her preoccupation.

He didn't bother calling out to her, his fire-training kicked in, rifle up, sight in, and depress firing stud. The pulse-rifle kicked, but he was used to it, and his aim was true. Both Gretch fell from the same shot, the pulse round passing cleanly through their small skulls, and saving the Guardswoman. Resea to her credit, kept focused on the last of her opponents, slicing the throat of one. And finally stabbing up into the others belly, under its sparse armor and into what Irah assumed would be its heart.

Resea wrenched her fang from the Gretch, breathing heavy, but evenly. Irah looked back to Taerosa, a circle of dead and dying green bodies around her. First round, them one, orks zero. Irah heard the mad bellowing of the slave driver that had gotten the Gretch to fight. It seemed mad that they'd killed its small gladiators. Shouting barely understood Ork curses it charged at them, Resea and Taerosa got into ready guards, waiting to see who would have to fight the green brute.

Irah saved them the hassle, aim, fire, dead. Pink mist. The ork's headless body collapsed forward, the crowd erupted into a smattering of raucous cheers and applause. It seemed the Orks just wanted blood, it didn't matter whose. Resea and Taerosa turned to regard him, almost questioning looks on their faces, Resea's more admonishing he thought.

"Don't worry, we Tau pack a lot more ammunition than you," he replied simply. The Guardswoman actually cracked a smile, a laugh escaping from her mouth. Taerosa simply nodded in approval. It was then that they noticed the ground was shaking, Irah caught sight of what it was before his companions. His blood ran cold, his eyes widened behind his visor, and his finger pointed out seemingly of its own volition. Resea and Taerosa turned as well, their own reactions more composed than his own, but still uneasy.

The massive hulk of orkoid flesh was easily as big, if not more than the Warboss, supported by two massively muscled legs, and sporting a maw large enough to swallow them all whole if it so desired. though the rows of jagged, but numerous teeth told that they'd be chewed thoroughly before being digested. Adorning a crude collar was a nameplate, rather oddly whatever ork owned the massive beast had named it... 'Pinky, Chewer of Gits'

"Well, they have a Squiggoth..." Resea spoke. "Nothing's ever simple is it..."

"Welcome to my life Master Sergeant," Taerosa replied.

"WHERE THE HECK IS WATGRAD AND HIS ETHEREAL DAMNED SIGNAL!" Irah flipped his shit.

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 **A/n: Sorry folks no shout-outs this chapter. Really appreciate the feedback though, glad those that have read it seem to be enjoying it. I plan on finishing this before getting back into the 'Our Masks' verse. I actually consider the two to be somewhat linked, you may see some familiar faces make a cameo. Thanks again for the reviews, get the next chapter to you all as soon as I can.**


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